


The Death Mist

by excentrykemuse



Series: Lux Kingsley Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is the Heir to the House of Black, Incest, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-05 06:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15857760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excentrykemuse/pseuds/excentrykemuse
Summary: Everyone told him he was Harry Potter.  He knew better.  He was Lycoris Rosier Black.  He just didn’t know what that meant.





	1. Part the First

**Title: The Death Mist  
** Author: ExcentrykeMuse  
**Pairings:** “Harry”/Voldemort, Draco/Astoria, Draco/OFC, Sirius/OFC, Hermione/OMC  
**Warnings:** incest, slash, dark curses, torture of a muggle, imposed exile, stolen children, framing people for crimes, death (canon), EWE  
**Summary:** Everyone told him he was Harry Potter. He knew better. He was Lycoris Rosier Black. He just didn’t know what that meant.

**The Death Mist**

**Part the First—  
** _“She’s been chasing an answer / A sign lost in the abyss, this metropolis”_  
**—“Waiting for Superman,” Daughtry**

They were liars. All three of them.

Magic did exist. He wasn’t stupid. How else could he turn his eyes from dark purple to gray with just a thought, or make his hair, that was sometimes blond, sometimes brown, grow after Aunt Petunia had cut it? It made him seethe with anger.

Hatred boiled beneath his skin whenever one of them said, “Magic isn’t real.”

After one such incident he’d turned his hair neon blue. He got shut in his cupboard for a week for that.

He didn’t care. How could he? He was only proving them wrong. Them. The non-magical people. He didn’t have a word for them yet, but he knew there must be one.

He supposed he was a sorcerer. He couldn’t be a magician. No, that was wrong. Magicians pulled rabbits out of hats and that’s not what he could do. No, he could change himself. Once he had made his finger twist so that it was the shape of a key, and he snuck out of his cupboard one night to steal food from the kitchen.

There were the other small occurrences, too. He could hoard food, and not just hoard it, but make it last for days. One small piece of bread should not be able to satisfy him for three days, and yet it did. At night, even though there was no lightbulb in the cupboard, there would be a ball of light that would shine somewhere over his head.

He only had one book that he nicked from the school library: Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen. He’d been six at the time. At first he’d barely been able to read it, but then he’d taught himself. Now he’d read it cover to cover more times than he could count. And that’s just what he did, every night. He read about Elinor and Marianne and their trials of love and loss.

They were his first friends.

When he was seven he discovered the public library. They were all liars there, too, but they didn’t know any better. They also thought that magic wasn’t real, like most people, but they did help him in other ways. They allowed him to research.

And he needed to research.

For, you see, he knew that his name wasn’t what everyone told him it was. Of course, Uncle Vernon would call him “Freak” and “Boy”, but they said his name was Harry James Potter.

But that wasn’t his name.

Ever since he could remember, there had been a thin line on his arm. Aunt Petunia, upon discovering it when he was about three, tried to scrub it off in the bath to the point where he had started to bleed.

He’d kept the line hidden after that.

However, the scar began to take shape. Words began to form, but at first they were too small to read. Then, on his fifth birthday, they had enlarged just enough so that he could read them: Lycoris Rosier Black. Toujours Pur.

At first he didn’t know what it all meant. Black was a name, he knew that much. Lycoris was strange but that must be a name. Lycoris Black, then. A name on his arm. And why would he have anyone else’s name on his arm but his own?

So, they were liars, every last one of them. They said his name was Potter and that his mother was Aunt Petunia’s sister but he had seen a picture of her. She was beautiful, with auburn hair and startling green eyes, but there was nothing in his face with its high cheekbones and its aristocratic nose that suggested that he was at all related to the woman.

He’d never seen a picture of James Potter, who apparently was a drunk and Lycoris knew that whoever his father was, he was not a drunk, but he doubted that Potter had blond wavy hair and purple eyes.

No, he wasn’t Harry James Potter. He was Lycoris Rosier Black.

There were no family trees at the library. However, there were dictionaries. Lycoris meant ‘Twilight.’ Toujours Pur was French for ‘always pure.’ Lycoris wondered what that meant. Perhaps it had something to do with all the non-magical people who wandered about on the street.

When he was finished researching, Lycoris read. First he read all of Jane Austen. Then Dickens. Then he was fascinated with science and the make-up of the human body. After studying a diagram of human anatomy for nearly a week, he was able to shrink his stomach so he wouldn’t be hungry as often.

Still, he was lied to.

He chose not to react, however. Soon the Dursleys stopped baiting him with stories about his good-for-nothing parents (who weren’t his parents, after all) and let him get on with his life. They didn’t complain when Lycoris disappeared after school, as long as he wasn’t under foot and was there to cook dinner in the evening.

Lycoris hated them.

He didn’t understand why he had to live with non-magical people when he could clearly do all these wondrous things. 

Then the letters started to come.

It was interesting. He managed to snag one and it was addressed to ‘Lycoris Black.’ Clearly someone knew who he was.

However, after being on the run from the letters that invited him to a magical school called Hogwarts (Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hadn’t realized that he had read one of the letters and kept it in his pocket), a giant arrived at their shack on the sea and gave him another letter addressed to ‘Harry Potter.’

Another liar. Harry hated him.

He went with the giant to Diagon Alley, but soon lost him in the crowd. Finding his way to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, he stood on a stool and asked the witch if he could have a basic wardrobe.

“Yes, these clothes are drab and a little big,” she admitted. She hesitated. “We offer both Muggleborn and pureblood options.”

There was a boy the next stool over who was watching him curiously.

Lycoris looked down at the woman. He remembered the saying on his arm. Toujours Pur. “I’m a pureblood,” he answered succinctly.

Here, the other boy began to speak. “Can’t you tell by his cheekbones? A Muggleborn wouldn’t look like that!”

“Why, yes, of course, sir. Sorry, sir.” She bundled out of the room.

The other boy had shocking blond hair and a pointed face. He had the same gray eyes that Lycoris sometimes wore.

“Are you a Black?” Lycoris guessed, looking the other boy over. “It’s just, I’m looking for the Blacks and you have gray eyes.”

The boy seemed startled. “My mother’s a Black. I’m Draco. Heir Draco Black Malfoy.” He held out his hand.

Lycoris took it with a small smile. “Might I ask you a question? It’s just, it’s been something I’ve been trying to puzzle out since I was five, and I didn’t have the best resources. I mean, I translated everything, but I still don’t know what it is, and you’re a Black, so you might know—“

“He might know what?” There was a man—a wizard—standing imperiously in the doorway. He had long blond hair and the same pointed features as Draco. His eyes were a steely blue.

“He’s looking for the Blacks, Father. Apparently he has a question for the Blacks.”

“I see.” The man floated into the room and sat down in a plush armchair. He held a cane with a serpent head that looked at Lycoris as if it were alive.

“Well, my wife and I have no secrets. If it’s knowledge from the Blacks you seek, you may ask me. If I cannot help you, I will refer you to her. Come, young man.”

Lycoris looked at him warily. He was wearing Hogwarts robes, pinned up, and closing his eyes, he pulled up he right sleeve to show the brand. He heard an intake of breath. “You see why I need a Black.”

There was a bustle from the door and his sleeve was jerked down. “I think this would be a conversation better for luncheon,” Draco’s father stated. “Tell me, Heir Lycoris, where have you been thus far.” He pronounced Lycoris “LIE-corr-iss,” which made Lycoris a little relieved since that’s how he’d been pronouncing it all along.

“Well, here.”

Draco was looking at him strangely.

“I will go pick up you school books for you and meet you back here. I see there are swatches for robes. Excellent. Madam Malkin, I want it put on the Malfoy House Account. And he needs a set of robes for today and tomorrow immediately.”

She bobbed her head.

“Draco, why don’t you tell your cousin a bit about the Blacks. Particularly about their family motto.”

“Well,” Draco began self importantly, hopping down from his stool. “Mum’s a Black. She’s the youngest of three sisters. Aunt Bellatrix is in Azkaban—that’s the wizarding prison—and Aunt Andromeda was disinherited for marrying a Muggleborn.”

“I see. What’s a Mugglborn? And you get disinherited for that?”

“You get disinherited for marrying anyone but another pureblood—a pure wizard. A Muggleborn is a wizard who has non-magical or Muggle parents,” he explained. He was now circling Lycoris with the color swatches. “What’s in stock?”

“I’ll be back in just a moment,” the witch said, vanishing Lycoris’s robes.

“Then there were Cousins Sirius and Regulus. Cousin Sirius got himself blasted off the family tree, though not disinherited, for running away and Cousin Regulus, well, he was killed by the Dark Lord.”

“You mean You-Know-Who?”

“Purebloods call him the Dark Lord, Cousin Lycoris,” Draco answered.

“Right, who was then defeated by Harry Potter. As if that’s even possible,” Lycoris sighed, remembering his brief chat with Hagrid on the subject.

“Hmm,” Draco responded. “Lord Black, Cousin Sirius that is, is also in Azkaban right now. You’re the only other Black I know of.”

Madam Malkin bustled in with velvet green and then dark blue robes. Draco nodded to her and immediately they were whisked onto Lycoris and were pinned into place. She hummed all the while.

“You’re lucky you ran into me. Mum’s the only Black really left.”

“What about Toujours Pur?”

“That’s simple. Black family motto. It means that the house is always pure. No Muggle influences.” Draco smiled at him.

They fell into silence.

“Where have you been all these years?”

“Surrey. The horrible part.”

The first robe was off and the second one was on. Lycoris liked the texture of it.

“We live in Wiltshire. You’ll like it there.”

“I’ll like it there?”

“Well, of course. You showed up here in rags. You’re a Black. Mum’s a Black. Father and Mother are obviously going to try and gain custody of you.”

“Draco,” his father was in the door again, “we don’t want to overwhelm Heir Lycoris.—Are the robes almost done?”

“Just one more pin,” Madam Malkin said, and then with a wave of her wand, the robes fit Lycoris perfectly.

“Good. You can leave in those.” He pointed to the rags. “We’ll have these three swatches in robes by the end of the week and the rest owl to the Manor.”

“Of course, Lord Malfoy,” she bobbed a curtsey again. “Heir Draco, Heir Lycoris.”

“Now, let us get you some wands,” Lord Malfoy said and he herded the two boys out into the street.

Lady Malfoy was a beautiful witch, who looked like she could be Lycoris’s mother except for her cheekbones. Lycoris was currently wearing brown hair. When Lycoris first stepped into Ollivander’s, she gave a little start and looked over to her husband in question.

“Narcissa, darling, may I present to you, Heir Lycoris Rosier Black. He and Draco met at Madam Malkin’s.” He gave her a pointed look. “Lycoris, this is your Aunt Narcissa, Lady Malfoy.” 

“I—“ Lycoris was lost for words. Without meaning to, his eyes turned to gray and her gaze widened.

She stepped forward and placed her two hands on his shoulders. “Lycoris, it is wonderful to meet you. I’m so happy you could spend the day with us.”

“Thank you, Lady Malfoy.”

“Aunt Narcissa, I insist.” She smiled. She looked over Lycoris’ shoulder at Draco. “Now, let’s get you boys your wands.” Aunt Narcissa looked over to the little man who was hovering nearby. “Heir Lycoris first, I believe. He is our guest, after all.”

The little man set to work, taking down wands, talking about the Blacks and their affinity toward Dragon Heartstring, but every wand Lycoris tried simply did not work for him. He felt nothing.

Draco found his wand half an hour in. He’d gotten bored and was trying all of Lycoris’s rejects when a wind rushed around him and silver and green sparks sprang out the end of it.

“Hawthorn and Dragon Heartstring, Heir Draco,” Mr. Ollivander said happily. “An excellent wand, if I do say so myself.”

Still, the hunt for Lycoris’s wand continued for over two hours, both Lord and Lady Malfoy patiently waiting, when Mr. Ollivander stilled and looked at Lycoris.

“When’s your birthday?”

“Today,” he answered simply, and Lucius looked at him in surprise.

“I wonder, I wonder.” He padded off to the back of the shop and came back with a dusty old box. “Holly. Phoenix Feather. Eleven inches. Give it a wave.”

As soon as Lycoris picked it up he felt a surge of magic swell within him. He smiled and waved the wand, sparkles of bronze and blue following in his wand’s wake. 

“Excellent!” Narcissa exclaimed. “Perhaps it was your mother, Lycoris, who had an affinity with Phoenix feathers.”

“Perhaps,” Lord Malfoy agreed.

“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold,” Mr. Ollivander said, looking at Lycoris strangely. “Every wand. It so happens that the brother of this wand did great things. Terrible things. But great.”

“Who had the wand?” Lord Malfoy asked as if he already knew the answer.

“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Mr. Ollivander whispered. “I was certain that if I ever sold that wand that it would be to Harry Potter.”

Lycoris sucked in a breath.

Lord Malfoy noticed. “Well, obviously it was meant for Heir Lycoris. Clearly the evidence is overwhelming.”

Narcissa came up and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Clearly,” she agreed. She smiled between him and Draco. “Now, an early tea, I think. Lucius, dear, shall we meet you there?”

“Of course, dear. I’ll be but a moment,” he said, drawing out his money pouch.

“I can pay,” Lycoris said. “I have money.”

“Speak nothing of it,” Narcissa insisted. “You’re our guest and our cousin.”

Draco offered him a smile. “I never thought I had a cousin before, apart from that half-blood. It was always just me and my sisters.”

“I supposedly have a cousin,” Lycoris offered. “I wouldn’t wish him on anyone.” He thought about Dudley and how he’d probably have to see him later that night. He was going to make the day stretch as long as possible.

Narcissa led the two of them down a side street to a dome of sheer glass and Lycoris stopped dead in his tracks, staring in awe. Draco noticed he had stopped first and turned, smiling. “Never been to The White Witch before? They have the best clotted cream.”

Turning toward them, Narcissa smiled. “Come along, boys. Quit dawdling.”

It turned out the Malfoys were quite important as they were moved to the front of the queue and given a table at the very center where there was a large fountain and soft piano music playing. 

The three were seated when Draco said aloud, “Perhaps you should show Mother.”

“I—okay.” Lycoris placed his arm on the table and lifted his sleeve to show the brand. 

She sucked in a breath. “Who are you here with?” she demanded angrily.

He shrank back into himself, but she immediately stilled and cleared her expression.

“I’m sorry for my anger. It was not directed at you, Lycoris. Who are you here with?”

“Hagrid brought me. He took me from the liars I’ve been living with for ten years.”

“These—liars. May I ask who they are?”

“Why do you call them liars?” Draco asked curiously.

“They say magic doesn’t exist but it obviously does, and they call me by a different name.”

“Muggles,” Narcissa spat. “Never mind your false name. At least for now. The brand tells the truth when a Black child is stolen. How long have you been with these—people?”

“Since the people who were supposedly my parents died. I was one. There was supposed to be a car crash. Dad was drunk. It was how I supposedly got my scar.”

She looked him up and down obviously not seeing a scar. “And who were these people?”

“James—“ he hesitated. “James and Lily Potter.”

Narcissa dropped her cup. “You were called ‘Harry Potter’?” She suddenly motioned for everyone to remain silent as a server led Lord Malfoy to the table and he took up his seat next to Narcissa. Noticing her distress, he placed a hand on top of hers.

“What’s wrong?”

Narcissa looked into Lycoris’s eyes. “Show me your scar,” she demanded.

Sighing, Lycoris pushed aside his fringe and then, a moment later, revealed his scar.

“Impressive magic,” Lord Malfoy noted. “I believe I’ll pay Fudge a visit this evening so we can start custody proceedings. We have all the evidence we need on his arm and Fudge would be a fool not to grant the request.”

“I—I can change anything about myself,” Lycoris murmured, glancing at Draco. “My hair color, length, the color of my eyes, the size of my stomach, the—“

“A metamorphmagus then,” Narcissa said happily. “It’s an old Black trait. It only further proves your lineage. But whose son is he? I didn’t think that Sirius or Regulus ever married.”

“Well, he’s recognized as a Black on the brand,” Lord Malfoy stated. “One of them must have been.”

“I think it would be far more likely that the Potters would steal the child of their best friend’s disliked little brother instead of their best friend. Wouldn’t Sirius have noticed?”

“I wouldn’t have counted Sirius as the best of guardians,” Lord Malfoy said decisively.

Narcissa sighed before turning back to Lycoris. “Dear, the brand is an old form of Black Family magic. When a child is stolen, it appears on the arm of that child so that there can be no dispute as to the child’s true identity. You are Lycoris Rosier Black. You were never Harry Potter. We—my family—would like to gain custody of you so that you can be with family once again and be brought up with your birthright.”

“But who’s my father and mother?”

“We don’t know,” she answered kindly. “We know you’re a pureblood, a Black, and the only living wizard to carry that name apart from Lord Black, my cousin Sirius. That makes you heir to his title, just as Draco is heir to his father’s title. I promise you that we will find out what happened, though, Lycoris. Can you tell me when you first remember the brand?”

“Always. It was a thin line until I was about five and then on my birthday I could just read it.”

She blinked and looked over to Lord Malfoy.

He dabbed his mouth. “Right. I’ll go see Fudge now.” He stood up. “I don’t think I said it before, Lycoris, but you may call me ‘Uncle Lucius.’ Draco will show you the ropes.” He walked elegantly out of the restaurant.

“What—what does it mean?” he asked, a bit afraid.

“It, it means,” she began quietly, “that you were stolen in vitrus, before you were born. It’s the worst crime, Lycoris, and I am so sorry. Your mother and father might not have been aware that you were even taken.”

Lycoris felt his stomach drop out and the table began to sway but then long-fingered hands caught him. 

“I’ve got him, Mother,” Draco stated proudly. He rested Lycoris up against the back of his chair. “I think he needs a bit more food in his stomach.”

“I don’t eat.”

“What?”

“The Dursleys. They don’t feed me, so I don’t eat.”

Narcissa looked crushed while Draco clearly had no idea what to say.

“A bit of tea then,” she demanded. “It will make me feel better and then we’ll have Dobby make a light broth for your supper. We’ll call in a Healer tomorrow.”

Lycoris didn’t know who Dobby was but he knew the protocols when dealing with someone who hadn’t eaten in long amounts of time. He’d read about it in the library.

By the time they finished up shopping, Lycoris had a beautiful black cat he’d named Samhain, at Draco’s suggestion. He wanted to name him Halloween, but Draco said that was terribly Muggle and he should respect his cat more. So, he used the pagan holiday instead, which apparently pureblood wizards still practiced.

He’d had to go in through something called the Floo, which was like riding down a stairwell at lightspeed through a fireplace, and ended up in the marble foyer of some house. He’d landed rather unceremoniously on his backside, and so Samhain had jumped out of his arms with feline grace.

Narcissa and Draco were waiting for him. Draco immediately came and grabbed his hand. “Come. I know the perfect room for you. It’s right next to mine. I don’t think Mother or Father will mind you so closely tied in with the family.”

“Hardly,” Narcissa agreed. “Introduce him to your sisters first, though, dear. I’ll have Dobby bring up your school trunks and supplies. Would you like Proserpine in your room or the owlery?”

“My room,” Draco decided. He was then pulling Lycoris along up a marble staircase to what appeared to be a sitting room. Sitting inside was a witch with dishwater hair and two girls with blond tresses. 

“Madam Cecily,” he greeted. “Mother and I are home now. May I have a moment with my sisters?”

Cecily looked over at him with brown eyes before standing and curtseying. “Heir Draco,” she said, sliding from the room.

Lycoris watched the swish of her gown as she left.

Both girls were impeccably dressed. The oldest, who couldn’t be more than a year or two younger than him and Draco, was wearing ice blue robes and had her hair up on her head. The other child was about five and playing with a Pegasus toy that actually flew.

“Lacerta, Io, I want you to meet our cousin, Heir Lycoris Black. He should be staying with us the summer.”

“Draco, there is no Heir Black,” the eldest put in. “You of all people should know that.”

“Well, it appears we were wrong about the subject,” Draco drawled. “Cousin Sirius has an heir and here he is.”

The girl in ice blue rolled her eyes and stood. She then bobbed a curtsey. “Heir Lycoris.”

“Lady Lacerta Malfoy,” Draco prompted quietly. “Take her hand and hold it at around your chin.”

Lycoris hesitantly reached for her outstretched hand and dropped it as soon as he could. She looked at him oddly.

“And this is Lady Iolanthe, the baby of the family,” Draco said with pride, as he pushed some hair away from her face. She sat up and looked up at them with startling gray eyes. 

“Lih-cor-iss,” she tried.

“LIE-corr-iss,” he corrected kindly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“Right. Your room,” Draco announced. “I hope you like purples. It’s a rather gender neutral room. It’s the one next to mine, and across from Io’s. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

“No, no, not at all,” Lycoris said quickly. “I had a room for a few days at the Dursleys’, but usually I just slept in the cupboard under the stairs.”

Draco stopped. “Cupboard. Under the stairs? Well, we’re not like that. If all goes well at the ministry you’ll become a ward of this family and essentially my brother. I’ve always wanted one, you know.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m surrounded by girls.” Lycoris was then shown in to a set of apartments. They couldn’t merely be called a room. There was a sitting room with a desk and a full bookshelf for his study. Then, through an inner door was a large bedroom with a four poster bed. He even had his own bathroom and walk in closet.

“Mother’s not one for posters,” Draco explained, “but I tack up some drawings out of books and essays I do particularly well on. I don’t suppose you have photographs, but we’ll soon fix that. Mother and Father have been talking about a family picture since I’m to go off to school, and I’m sure they’ll want you to be in it.”

Lycoris sank down on the bed. “This morning I was sleeping on the floor in a hut on the sea,” he said in disbelief. “And now all this.”

“Yes, well, Muggles are strange,” Draco agreed, sitting down. Samhain was curled up on a pillow. He petted her absently. “Lycoris. Could you show me something? You said you were a metamorphmagus.”

Lycoris smiled, and his hair turned a shocking blond. “Proof enough for you?” he asked, changing back.

“More than enough,” Draco complimented. “I would keep that skill hidden at school. Don’t broadcast it. The headmaster—Dumbledore—likes to collect oddities. They’re his supposed ‘favorites.’ Father told me so. I also wouldn’t tell anyone they used to call you Harry Potter. I’d hide any evidence of the fact.”

“What if Hagrid recognizes me?”

“Change your hair. It should be good enough.”

Lycoris thought. “Do you have a picture of Sirius and Regulus Black?”

“I, yes, somewhere.” Draco hopped off the bed. “Follow me.” They entered a library and Draco immediately honed in on a row of albums on one of the shelves. Finding what he was looking for, he pulled it out and placed it on a table.

There was the handsome face of Sirius Black that was so similar to his own. Regulus, no less handsome, had a different air about him. They both had long black hair that fell to their shoulders.

“Well,” Lycoris said. He turned his now blond hair black, gave it a bit of a curl, and grew it to his shoulders. “This should be enough.” 

Draco looked at him with wide eyes. “You look just like Cousin Sirius.”

“Well, I may be his son,” he answered honestly. “I wonder who Mother was. I hope she was kind.”

Draco squeezed his hand. “She could still be out there. We don’t know otherwise yet. I’m sure Father will contact Mr. Rosier soon to try and discover who she is.”

“Yes, that will be nice.”

There was a pop and a strange creature with shrunken skin and tennis ball eyes appeared before them and said, “Masters be home. He be seeing everyone in drawing room.”

He then popped out again.

“What was that?” Lycoris asked in confusion.

“A house elf, our servant,” Draco replied. “You’ll get used to him.”


	2. Part the Second

**Part the Second—**   
_“Baby, can you feel it coming / You know I can hear it, hear it in your soul”_   
**—“Time for Miracles,” Adam Lambert**

Lucius was standing with a smallish man in pinstriped robes. Draco went up to him and shook his hand before Lucius introduced him as the Minister of Magic.

“There’s a Minister of Magic?” Lycoris asked, confused.

“Yes, Lycoris,” Lucius said patiently. “And he wanted to give you the order of wardship himself.”

Lycoris looked at the Minister, confused. 

“Yes, well, young man. This is your copy that says that Lord and Lady Malfoy are your new guardians pending either of your parents coming forward and claiming custody of you.”

“I—thank you, sir. This means I don’t have to go back—“

“To your kidnappers, no. They have no legal claim on you. Lucius said you wanted them to remain anonymous at present, which is understandable, yes, understandable, but when you want Justice, you have only to ask.”

Draco hugged him round the middle, and Lycoris was so startled that he dropped his document. Lucius picked it up for him. “I’ll put this on your desk for you, Lycoris. I’ll just see the Minister out.”

“Can you believe it?” Draco asked happily. “Actual, real, live brothers! It’s like a dream come true.”

“I’ve never had a brother.”

“Nor have I,” Draco admitted. 

“Yes,” Lucius agreed with a slight smile. “I shall have to contact Severus, though, Draco. Lycoris needs to be brought up-to-date with pureblood traditions before he goes to Hogwarts.”

“Never mind that,” Draco said enthusiastically. “Have you ever ridden on a broom? No, of course you haven’t. I’ll get Mum to supervise, don’t worry, Father.” And with that he took Lycoris’s hand and dragged him from the room.

“As you can see, Minister, he is already undoubtedly a part of the family. There is one more thing I wish to petition for.”

“Yes?” The man looked eager to please.

“We know Lycoris is most likely Heir Lycoris Black. His only possible fathers are either Sirius, Lord Black, who is in Azkaban, or the deceased Lord Regulus Black, which is highly unlikely. I would like leave to visit Lord Black and get to the bottom of this. Lycoris deserves to know who his father is and deserves his proper place in society. Think of what political power may be at your disposal if Heir Lycoris were in your debt, once he came of age.”

The Minister of Magic licked his lips. “Yes. Quite. Give me a couple of days to cut through all the wizarding tape, but you have my word that you may visit Azkaban before the summer is out.”

Lucius bowed his head. “Thank you, Minister.”

…

The man was dressed all in black, his robe billowing about him even as he sat in a chair. His black hair fell lank to his shoulders and he had a hooked nose. His beady black eyes showed intelligence and he had a glass of whiskey in his hand.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Severus,” Lucius said as he entered the room. “My son and Lycoris were out flying and didn’t want to come in.” He chuckled. “Boys their age are all the same.” He poured himself a whiskey and soda and sat on the edge of his desk, showing that this was a casual meeting. 

“Lycoris, Lucius?”

“Yes, you would not have heard,” Lucius agreed. “We haven’t put it in the papers yet until we can confirm exactly who his father is. Lycoris is my wife’s cousin: Heir Lycoris Black, we believe. He is a stolen child.”

Severus sucked in a breath. “This has been confirmed?”

“It is not in question. The Blacks have employed some questionable arts over the centuries to mark those who are stolen from them.—However, Lycoris is now a member of my household. Unfortunately, he’s been living with Muggles. He’s shown his intelligence in that he researched himself as much as possible and spent almost all his afternoons in the library growing up. I understand that his grasp of Muggle literature is extensive for one so young. However, he needs tutoring and badly.”

“You know how I feel about Sirius Black, Lucius. The man tormented me for years.” He looked into his whiskey, remembering the many occasions, and that fateful day when he had lost Lily forever.

“I understand that, Severus, but he is just a boy. A terribly bright boy who was abused by Muggles. Surely you can at least feel pity for him.”

Severus sighed. “He shows no hint of rebelliousness or disregard for pureblood protocol?”

“None whatsoever,” Lucius happily reported. “He’s a surprisingly well-adjusted child who likes books and has recently discovered the joy of flying. He’s soaked up all knowledge of the Old Ways like a bezoar. It’s astounding. It’s clear he was born to this life.”

“Well,” Severus got up and looked at a calendar. “It’s the third of August. I can teach him basic potions and transfiguration, and have him learn dueling with Draco, if you’re amenable. Charms will unfortunately have to be left ‘til Yule. Narcissa is skilled in Astronomy, is she not? She can start teaching him the basics, as well as comportment. Is this satisfactory?”

Lucius smiled. “Thank you, Severus. The House of Malfoy shall not soon forget this kindness.”

“It would do no harm to have Draco sit in on the lessons, when he’s inclined. He can encourage his cousin. I’ll send over a schedule in the morning and we begin on Monday.”

Monday was an interesting day. Lycoris was wearing the work robes that Lucius had ordered for him over the weekend, and was sitting buttering a piece of toast. Narcissa was trying to coax him into eating an egg, but he said it made him nauseous. It was difficult going, feeding Lycoris. It had been less than a week, but at least he was improving, thanks to the nutrition potions Dobby was giving him.

“This may interest you, Lycoris,” Lucius said, holding out the paper to the front page. It showed an angry Vernon Dursley being led away in chains.

Lycoris flinched.

Lucius and Narcissa looked at each other before Lucius began to read aloud. “It has been found today that Harry Potter has been drowned by his Muggle relatives, Vernon and Petunia Dursley of Surrey, England. They await trial in a Muggle court and then will be transferred to the Wizengamot to answer for their crime. The wizarding world will, of course, mourn its savior who was set to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this fall.” He closed the paper. “Happy Birthday, Lycoris.”

He looked up. “You did this?”

“With a few of my friends,” he agreed. “We couldn’t have people asking questions about Harry Potter, now could we? And we needed the Dursleys to pay for their crimes. Fortunately, thanks to Draco, you look different enough so that no one will recognize you. What is your natural hair color anyway?”

“Blond or brown. It depends. Whatever made the Dursleys angriest—and I’ve seen a few pictures of Sirius Black,” Lycoris said hesitantly and then his cheekbones rose slightly. “Is that better?”

Narcissa smiled at him kindly. “Don’t change too much about yourself, Lycoris. We don’t want you to have to live a lie.”

He shrugged. “My hair’s much longer and I don’t care that it’s now black. Cheekbones are cheekbones and my eyes now match my father’s—or uncle’s. I don’t know. It makes me a Black. They were usually sometimes gray before anyway.”

“I think Lycoris looks handsome,” the six-year-old Iolanthe declared. “May I marry him, Father?”

“That’s a discussion for a much later date.” Lucius smiled at his daughter. “You’re far too young.” He turned to Lycoris. “Lessons begin for you, young man, in ten minutes. Off to the school room with you—and take that piece of toast.”

“Yes, Uncle Lucius,” Lycoris said as he ran from the room, Draco not far behind him. Samhain, who was always lurking, rushed after them, as well.

“Those boys are inseparable,” Narcissa noted. “Hopefully they’ll end up in Slytherin together.”

“I have my doubts,” Lucius disagreed. “I think Lycoris will make a fine Ravenclaw. I just wonder how long it will take him to find that Muggle book of his we rescued from that horrible cupboard.”

“With how battered it looked, I’m sure it was a favored possession. And, well, with Sirius Black as his father, I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t end up in Slytherin. Sirius was, after all, the only Black to not be in Slytherin.” Narcissa sighed. “My poor cousin. I thought he was on the wrong side of the war and then he killed all those Muggles. It’s a shame he was caught.”

“Yes, maybe then he could have raised Lycoris,” Lucius mused. “However, who knows how Lycoris would have turned out then.”

…

There was no floo to Azkaban and the anti-Apparition wards were extensive. Instead, Lucius had to Apparate to Inverness and from there had to take a small boat out to the small island that housed the wizarding prison.

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls as he was led to the one interrogation room that would serve as a visitor’s room on this cold August day. Lucius could feel the Dementors. They were several floors up, but their presence was still chilling.

The prisoner was brought in.

He was in rags, with long black hair and a bushy beard. There was no need for handcuffs. The Dementors saw to that.

“Lord Black,” Lucius greeted. “I’m sorry I could not see you under better circumstances.”

Sirius, Lord Black, lifted his head and looked at Lucius with cold gray eyes. “I never thought I’d see you here except in a cell,” he muttered, looking at Lucius’s finely tailored robes. “How did you manage to stay out of Azkaban? Line a few pockets?”

“If you must know,” Lucius said quickly, “I was under the Imperius Curse during the War. That’s not why I’m here, though. Narcissa, however, sends her best.”

“Narcissa sends her best? What is this? A social call? The Ministry never would have allowed you here for that.” His voice was rough and gravelly with disuse, but still Lucius could hear the sarcasm in it.

“No, just a pleasantry.” He took off a glove and then opened a folder. He placed a picture of Lycoris Black standing with Draco in their new school robes in front of Sirius. “My son, Draco, with Heir Lycoris Black. Lycoris is a stolen child. He was probably taken in vitrus or just days after his birth. We know, from his name, that either you or Lord Regulus is his father.”

Sirius picked up the picture and stared hungrily at Lycoris. “A Black heir? What’s his full name?”

“Lycoris Rosier Black. Does that help jog your memory?”

Sirius, though, wasn’t listening. Instead he was staring at the photograph. “He has the Black eyes, and my cheekbones. His hair, though, is like—.” Sirius paused, as if about to say a name, but then stopped itself. “It’s black though.” He glanced at Lucius. “When was he born?”

“The end of July, 1980.” He never said Lycoris’s actual birthday. He didn’t want anyone to make a connection to Harry Potter.

“1980.” Sirius seemed to be thinking. “Regulus died in April 1979. He married and there were rumors of a daughter, but Lycoris couldn’t be his.”

“There’s another Black? And is that when he died? There are no official documents,” Lucius admitted. He had searched for them, of course, but had found nothing. There had never even been a body found.

“Hmm, yes. That’s when Kreacher came and told us. No, Regulus couldn’t be the father.” He seemed to think for a moment, as if puzzling something out. “In vitrus. It would look like a miscarriage to us then.”

“Yes,” Lucius agreed a little sadly. “A miscarriage.”

Sirius put the picture down. “I fully claim him.”

“You do.” Lucius was not convinced. “You have not spoken of a mother or any marriage prior to July 1980, only your brother’s death.”

“He’s mine, I claim him,” Sirius snapped. “I need an heir. Gods know, I’m stuck in this place for the rest of eternity. He’s a Black. You say he’s a stolen child. That means his name’s branded on his arm. That doesn’t lie. I will have no one question his place in this world. He’s had enough to deal with. And it was a miscarriage. Who took him?”

“Eventually? Muggles.”

At Sirius’s visible lack of response, Lucius added, “Magic-hating Muggles.”

Sirius tensed. At least that got the right reaction.

“He’s safe now. Narcissa and I treat him as our own.”

At this, Sirius visibly relaxed. “Narcissa would only love a child,” he murmured. “And you’re a pureblood. You at least value children.”

“I more than value them,” Lucius corrected, taking a piece of parchment from the folder. “If you could sign this stating that he is your lawful heir by marriage, then this will be sent to Gringotts and his Heir Ring will be taken from your vault. It will also be filed with the Ministry.”

“My hands, they’re not much used to writing.”

“Your magical signature should me more than enough,” Lucius reasoned, as he pressed a quill in his wife’s cousin’s hand. Sirius grasped it inexpertly and badly signed the parchment. Still, it glowed before disappearing.

“I don’t suppose you can tell us the name of his mother?”

“She must be a Rosier.” His tone, though, clearly said that he thought that was a lie.

Lucius was disappointed, though he had expected such an answer.

“Will you tell me about him? Lycoris?”

Here, Lucius smiled. “He’s a bright lad. He went to a Muggle library and figured out what the brand probably meant. He’s also a Metamorphmagus. His eyes are actually purple, if you’d believe it.”

“Do you have a picture?” Sirius asked hungrily.

“Yes,” he said carefully, and took out a second picture. This one showed Lycoris with slightly lowered cheekbones, blonde hair that was cut to his ears, and lavender eyes. 

Sirius picked up the picture and just stared. “He looks just like—“

“Yes,” Lucius agreed. “I had thought the same.” He glanced at the guard meaningfully and then took the second picture back carefully. Then, clearing his throat, Lucius said, “Lycoris likes to keep his eyes gray—like Narcissa’s and Draco’s. Like yours. I hope you don’t think it was too presumptuous, but we showed him some old photographs of you and Regulus. He usually changes his hair to black from the deep blond to match as well.”

“I wouldn’t want him to pretend he’s someone he’s not.”

“He’s merely emulating his father. It’s a young man’s prerogative.”

Sirius nodded absently. His fingers traced the smiling face of Lycoris in the first picture. “An heir,” he murmured. “She didn’t lose him. A Black heir.”

There was a knock on the door. Lucius made to rise.

“I may keep the picture?” Sirius asked, like the broken man he almost was.

“Of course. If I can get in to see you again, I’ll even have Lycoris write you a letter.” It was the least he could do, after all. Lucius had never approved of Narcissa’s erstwhile cousin, but he would not deny Lycoris a father. To do so would make him no better than a common Muggle. Of course, he now considered himself Lycoris’s father in everything but name, and he would be exactly that, what with Sirius, Lord Black being locked away in this godforsaken place.

Lycoris would now have everything that Pureblood society had to offer him. Yes, he had a shamed father, but that was not so unusual for his generation. The point was that he was now recognized by the Lord of his House, and would have his Heir ring delivered to him from Gringotts. This was proof enough.

…

Lycoris was in lessons when the ring arrived. He was rather startled that he almost cut his finger. He was learning how to dice potions ingredients. “It’s like cooking,” he told Severus. “I did all the cooking—before.”

He opened the box and almost dropped it. Inside was a platinum signet ring with a shield with a crow’s head emblazoned on it. “I—It’s real.” He sat down. 

Severus sat down next to him. “You put it on your pointer finger of your right hand. It will resize itself to you.”

Hesitantly, Lycoris took the ring out of its box and placed it on his hand like Severus said. The ring resized and he could feel the weight of it. He held his hand out and looked at it. “I’ve seen Draco’s but I never really thought that I’d have one myself,” he admitted. “This is all so new. So strange.”

“It must have been difficult, being stolen,” Severus said, his voice trying to be sympathetic.

“They were all liars. I knew they were all liars. They said my name was one thing when clearly it was another. They also said that magic wasn’t real and yet—“

“You could perform magic,” Severus supplied. “The ignorant often fear what they cannot explain. But, come, your lessons. You must learn to cut and dice with the added weight of your ring.”

Then on another day, when Draco was playing about with a potion to make hair pink, the conversation took a different turn. “I’m not certain, but you could end up in either Ravenclaw or Slytherin,” Snape announced on August 31. “You have the mind of a Ravenclaw, but I would be lying if I didn’t see some Slytherin cunning in you.”

“Slytherin cunning? I thought I was rather an open book?”

“You pretend to be, but nothing could be further from the truth, stolen-one.”

Lycoris started back and nodded. He did hide who he used to be. He liked to pretend that everything before his birthday frankly didn’t happen to him. It happened to someone else—to Harry Potter.

“You were friends with Regulus Black, weren’t you? Do you know if he ever married?”

“No, I don’t know. He never confided in me that much. Nor did Sirius Black, if you were wondering. We were rivals.”

“Yes. Uncle Lucius told me.” He sighed. ‘We’re never going to get anywhere on this. Sirius says he’s my father but can’t name my mother. One of them must have married a Rosier in the Old Ways, leaving behind no paper trail, and Mr. and Mrs. Rosier only agreed to meet me this Yule.”

“It is a hard cross to bear, not knowing who your parents are,” Snape agreed. “At least you know you’re a pureblood and legitimate and wanted by relatives. Not many can say that.”

“No. Not many can say that.”

…

There was a loud, rowdy family on the platform just before the train was set to leave. They were all ginger-topped and it seemed like all of the boys were getting on the train at once. Lycoris and Draco were sharing a compartment and were looking out at their family—Narcissa, Lucius, and the girls. Io had broken down crying in Lycoris’s arms and he had been able to do nothing but hold her and promise he’d be back for Yule. She also wouldn’t let go of Samhain and Aunt Narcissa had to take the cat from her arms.

“Weasleys,” Draco muttered darkly. “All of them. They have more children than they can afford and send them off to Hogwarts in rags.”

“I was in rags when you met me.”

“You also had a money purse and were buying yourself robes. Plus, it wasn’t as if the Muggles couldn’t afford you. They just chose not to. Swine.”

The ride went relatively peacefully until their cabin was invaded by a rather snotty witch with bushy brown hair and buckteeth. “Has anyone seen a toad? It’s only, Neville’s lost one.”

“Are you referring to Master Neville Longbottom?” Draco asked imperiously. “You should not address him so informally.”

The witch colored. 

“I think Samhain eats toads,” Draco drawled. “Lycoris, has she caught any recently?” There was a cruel streak to Draco that Lycoris didn’t really understand, but he put up with it as it wasn’t directed at him. Draco also had a sardonic humor about him that Lycoris found funny.

“She’s been sleeping,” he stated. “I promise to tell you if she catches any, —?”

“Granger,” the girl put in, offering her hand. It was a name that Lycoris didn’t recognize. Also a lady never offered her hand to a wizard for a handshake. “Hermione Granger.”

He ignored the hand. “Well, Granger, we’ll keep a lookout, but we can’t promise anything.”

She took the hand back. “And you are?”

“Heir Lycoris Black,” he answered coolly. “This is my cousin, Heir Draco Malfoy.”

“Charmed,” she sniffed, “I’m sure.” Then she looked at Lycoris hard. “I know you. I read about you in The Prophet. I got a subscription over the summer. You’re the stolen child and the heir to convict Sirius Black!” She sat down next to Lycoris, making Samhain jump out of the way, and looked at him eagerly. “What’s it like having a Death Eater for a father?”

“Out!” Draco demanded, taking out his wand, “or I’ll hex you.”

“He knows how,” Lycoris added, remembering how he had lost their most recent duel. 

“Fine,” she stated. “I’ll just talk to LIH-cor-iss later.”

Lycoris groaned.

She then left the compartment. “Mudblood,” Draco sneered.

“What?”

“Dirty blood. A Muggleborn who doesn’t have any sense.”

“Well, hopefully, she’ll end up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff and we won’t have to see her.” 

“We can only hope.”

Hogwarts was, in a word, fantastic. Lycoris was spellbound the entire time when he first arrived until the hat was put on his head. “Hmm. Harry Potter.” Lycoris flinched. The hat, it seemed could read his mind. “A trying childhood, one spent in seclusion and constant study, always hiding in plain sight. You could be either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, but I think the scholar in you wins out if not just a bit. Better be—RAVENCLAW!”

…

“Ravenclaw and first in his class,” Narcissa declared to Mrs. Rosier, who was sitting primly in maroon robes. Her hair was flaming red like Lily’s had been and her eyes were a stern brown. “He does us proud.”

“Yes,” she agreed tightly. “Come here, young man.”

Lycoris quickly set aside his tea and came to Mrs. Rosier. 

“Mr. Rosier will be here in any minute,” Mrs. Rosier said by way of apology as she took Lycoris’s chin and moved it from side to side. “When did you say his birthday was?”

“July 14th, 1980.”

“Late October, early November,” she mused. “Isabelle didn’t die ‘til 1982.” She turned to Narcissa. “Magical pneumonia.—And you say he could have been stolen while still in the womb?”

“Yes,” Narcissa agreed. “Isabelle may not even have known she was pregnant.”

“Hmm, the Black Heir,” she mused to herself. “Mr. Rosier”—it seemed he had slipped in—“can’t you see a hint of Isabelle in him? And to think, she was Heiress Sirius Black. What a place of position in society!”

“If you see it, my dear, then I shall trust your judgment. I told you that you would ultimately decide if he’s related to us.”

“Yes, our grand-nephew.” She turned back to Narcissa. “Isabelle was a favored niece, you must understand. Like our own daughter. It’s a wonder that she never said.—Go to your grand-uncle, young man. We’re all family, after all.”

Lycoris quickly moved away from her and turned to the more affable Mr. Rosier, who was looking at him with interest in his eyes. “I was in Ravenclaw, Heir Lycoris,” he said once Lycoris had bowed. “I’m glad to see you’re following in my footsteps. Isabelle, well, she was a Slytherin in a time when it was dangerous to be a Slytherin. That’s perhaps why your parents kept their marriage a secret.”

Lycoris tried to smile.

“Are you sure that wasn’t all contrived?” Lycoris asked once the Rosiers had floo’ed away.

“It might have been,” Narcissa agreed. “But what’s important is that you now have a mother. They may gain a title by association, but you gain something far more valuable, the knowledge that someone loved and cared for you before you were taken.”

“But she didn’t even know me!”

“I know the Rosiers,” Narcissa disagreed. “It’s true that Mrs. Rosier is a bit—stern—but she loved Isabelle Rosier dearly. I remember that much. She never had a daughter of her own, so she spoiled Isabelle dreadfully. She was about your father’s age, so they easily could have known one another.”

“All right,” Lycoris agreed. “But I still don’t like them.”

“I don’t like some of my kin. It’s only natural. I have a sister I don’t speak to at all. You’ll simply write them the odd letter every month or so to let them know how you’re doing and they’ll send you a gift in a few days for Yule.”

They did send him a gift, a beautiful Nimbus 2000. Lycoris had made it onto the Ravenclaw Quidditch team—he was the youngest Seeker in a Century—but he was flying an old Comet 360. This, though, was wondrous. Draco was green with envy. Lacerta looked down her nose at it and Iolanthe didn’t seem to care except about the new Gisela doll her mother had gotten for her.

Lycoris couldn’t help but wonder what his own father would have given him if he were free. He knew it was wishful thinking, but still, the fact that his father was locked up in prison made his stomach knot.


	3. Part the Third

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A NOTE ON ORIGINAL CHARACTERS
> 
>  **Draco Malfoy** has two sisters:
> 
>  **Lacerta "Lacy" Malfoy** , 1982-1983  
>  **Iolanthe "Io" Malfoy** , 1985
> 
>  **Romilda Vane** has two siblings:
> 
>  **Rosa Vane** , 1980 - half-sister, pureblood  
>  **Roland Vane** , 1977 - Rosa's half-brother by her mother and Romilda's stepbrother by her father's first marriage
> 
> *note*  
> JKR said in an interview that **Hermione Granger** was originally supposed to have a sister, but by the time she got around to mentioning her, it seemed a little late. So, I invented the sister, who is a **Muggle**
> 
>  **Elissa Granger** , August 1980

**Part the Third—**  
_“He drowns in his dreams / An exquisite extreme I know / He’s as damned as he seems / More heaven than a heart can hold”  
_**—“Beautiful Disaster” by Kelly Clarkson**

They said that Sirius Black had broken out of prison. Uncle Lucius had stormed home and interrupted Lycoris and Draco’s lessons.

“Lycoris,” he said, once they were in his study, “you must know that I need to strengthen the wards. Black was heard muttering in his sleep ‘He’s at Hogwarts,’ and I need to keep you safe.”

“But he’s my father.”

“Yes,” Lucius agreed solemnly. “When I spoke to him, he was obsessed by the very idea of you. I don’t want him taking you on the run with him. It wouldn’t be fair to you. You have a solid life here, with us, and you know that you are loved as much as Draco.”

“Yes,” Lycoris quietly agreed. “Would you give him sanctuary?”

Lucius sighed and looked into his tumbler. “I’m not certain. It hasn’t come to that yet. You know that I would never do anything to actively hurt you.”

“No, of course not.” Uncle Lucius had always been the father that Lycoris had always wanted. He was authoritative yet kind, and encouraged his studies, not caring that Lycoris gained all the top marks above Draco, his own flesh and blood.

Lucius and Narcissa sat Draco and Lycoris down one Sunday before school began and had a serious conversation with them.

“This year you choose your electives, and that can influence your future career goals,” Narcissa said carefully. “You’re heirs to two of the four houses but it’s not unheard of for heirs to pursue a particular career and then give it up once they assume their Lordship. Have you thought any about what you’d like to be when you grow up?”

Lycoris and Draco glanced at each other.

“I was hoping to hold our seat on the Wizengamot,” Draco rushed. “I know Father holds it, but he has so many more interests—“

Narcissa and Lucius smiled at each other. “No,” Lucius said, “that would be perfect. It would help train you for the Lordship and give you responsibility. I wouldn’t take Divination, if I were you, but the other three options are open to you.”

“I rather like creatures,” Draco added in, “because of my name.”

“Then would you like to choose Arithmancy or Ancient Runes?”

“Ancient Runes,” Lycoris added in for him. “He’s brilliant at languages.”

“Very well,” Narcissa said. “Lycoris?”

“I—it seems silly in comparison.” He blushed and his eyes flashed purple, showing that he was nervous.

“You can tell us anything,” Lucius assured him. “Let us help you.”

“Well,” he said. “I want to be a Healer. I know it’s not prestigious and you have long hours and have to deal with Muggleborns,” he sighed at this, “but I love Potions and I want to figure out diseases. I want to see how they grow and mutate and see if I can stop them.”

“Research then,” Narcissa mused. “You might want to go in as a Magical Medical Researcher. You’d deal specifically with diseases that have resisted magical treatment. You’ll need all your subjects, that includes Herbology even though I know you hate it, and you’ll need Arithmancy and—do you think Ancient Runes or Magical Creatures?” She turned to Lucius.

“We’ll get him an exemption so he can take both,” Lucius decided. “It shouldn’t be hard given the fact that he has held the top marks, beating out that upstart of a Mudblood, for the past two years. I’ll write to Headmaster Dumbledore this afternoon.”

Lycoris did end up being allowed to take the extra elective, when both Flitwick and Severus had spoken so strongly for him. He was weighed down, however, by the constant ‘threat’ of Sirius Black.

When Sirius broke into the Gryffindor Common Room on Halloween, Lycoris was confused. Didn’t his father know where to find him? As he lay in a sleeping in the Great Hall near Draco, he couldn’t turn his mind off. His father had been here, and yet he hadn’t seen the man. It was so frustrating!

He was brought into Deputy Headmistress McGonagall’s office the following day. “Mr. Black, take a seat.” She tapped a teapot. “Tea?”

“Thank you,” he said, ever polite. 

“I wished to speak to you about your father. He hasn’t made any contact with you, has he?”

Lycoris looked at her distrustingly. “No, Professor.” He sipped his tea. “The most communication I’ve had with my father is when I received my Heir Ring.”

“Ah, yes, of course. A very important rite of passage in a young wizard’s life,” she declared.

He could only nod.

“If he should contact you, you should inform your Head of House immediately. Sirius Black is running from the law, after all, and needs to be captured.”

“I don’t really see what all the bother’s about,” Lycoris admitted. “It was wrong to kill another wizard but the Muggles were all collateral damage.”

“They were human life, Mr. Black. That is sacred. If you must know, he was also the Secret Keeper to James and Lily Potter and gave away their location to You-Know-Who.”

That certainly got Lycoris’s attention. Perhaps his father knew then? That didn’t explain why the Dark Lord had tried to kill him. Sirius wouldn’t have wanted that.

It was all rather perplexing.

He did, however, get the chance to meet Sirius face to face.

“What on earth have you done to Weasley’s leg?” he demanded when he rushed into the Shrieking Shack with Draco on his heels. “This is ridiculous!”

“The rat—it’s Peter Pettigrew.”

“Isn’t that the wizard you killed along with all of those dreadful Muggles?” Draco drawled, leaning up against the doorframe.

“Well, nothing for it then,” Lycoris said, taking the rat from Ron. “Transform, idiot!” he prodded the rat. Nothing happened.

Sirius looked at him with crazed eyes and whispered, “Animagus Revealo.” Well, that certainly showed a lot.

Draco swung his wand around and whispered “Avada Kedavra” at the man when he was begging Weasley. 

“Self defense,” he said. “The man was coming right at me and threatening to kill me.—And there you have all the evidence you’ll need. The Corpsier will be able to tell ‘time of death.’”

“Did you perform—is that—?” Weasley babbled, but Lycoris just looked at him and whispered, “Obliviate.” 

“Now, the Minister likes us,” Lycoris said, motioning between himself and Draco. “I’m sure if we could just call him here.”

“I’ll get Father,” Draco said, rolling his emergency portkey in his hands. “Where are we, anyway?” He looked at Sirius Black.

“Shrieking Shack.”

“Right.”

Within ten minutes they were all ensconced at Malfoy Manor. Sirius was sitting with a blanket across his shoulders and Lycoris and Draco were whispering to each other. Pettigrew was dead on the floor. Weasley they’d healed up and sent on his merry way.

“Remarkable!” The Minister said. “Full pardon, don’t you agree, Madam Bones?”

She looked between Pettigrew and Sirius Black. “Your arm,” she demanded.

He lifted up his sleeve. It was free of the Dark Mark. “You know me, Amelia,” he said. 

“It doesn’t matter. Professor Dumbledore swore you were the secret keeper to Lily and James.”

“That was Pettigrew.”

“He’s dead and can’t say anything in his defense.”

“Actually, he did confess,” Lycoris put in, lying through his teeth. “He wouldn’t stop going on about how he didn’t want to hurt them. It was all really pathetic, wasn’t it, Draco?”

“That’s when he turned on me,” Draco claimed. “He was apologizing one minute and attacking the next. I’m only lucky I was able to defend myself. That nasty business with the hippogriff taught me to be armed and ready at all times.”

“Yes,” Amelia said carefully. “I agree, full pardon. He needs a bath, though, Lady Malfoy.”

“Our house elf is already running it,” she answered. “It will be ready for whenever this interview is done.”

Amelia swirled her wand and the body of Pettigrew disappeared, and she and the Minister showed themselves out. That left only the Blacks and the Malfoys.

“Lycoris,” Sirius rasped. “I’ve waited so long to see you.” He stood, holding the blanket around him, and came up to Lycoris, tracing one of his cheeks with his grimy finger. “I’m sorry, I’m all dirty. Perhaps I better have that bath and then we can talk?”

“You’re getting a good supper into you, too, Cousin,” Narcissa stated imperiously. “I don’t even want to know when your last meal was or what it was.” She led him away. He looked back and his gray eyes met Lycoris’s.

What seemed like hours later, Lycoris was admitted to one of the guest rooms. Sirius was sitting in robes that were far too big for him, his face shaved, and his hair curling down to his shoulders.

Lycoris had shortened his hair to about his chin earlier that year, when Uncle Lucius had explained that only the Lord of a house had hair down to his shoulders. He still missed the added length, however.

“You’ve grown, since the picture I have of you,” Sirius said by way of greetings. “Did you enjoy the Firebolt I sent you?”

“That was you?” Lycoris asked in disbelief. “I thought one of the Rosiers was feeling a little over-generous this year.”

“No, only me. I saw you fly one of your games and wanted you to have the best. I understand that your cousin Draco is also a Seeker?”

“Yes, it’s fun to play against him. We’re always keeping score over who wins and loses.” He smiled slightly. “He’s the brother I never had.”

“I’m glad you have that,” Sirius said sincerely, “and I don’t want to take that away from you.”

Lycoris looked up. “Aren’t I going to come and live with you now?”

“Yes,” Sirius agreed, “but I’ve already spoken with Narcissa. You’ll continue your lessons here—all your lessons, even the ones in the Dark Arts, although I disagree with it—and you’ll spend all day Sunday here every week, flooing in Saturday night. You’ll even keep your own bedroom.”

He smiled at his father. “They say my mother was Isabelle Rosier. Do you remember her?”

“She was this pretty little thing in Slytherin. I suppose I could have married her during the war. Life was so difficult then that we had to keep things secret, and some of the brighter memories are almost gone because of the Dementors. I couldn’t be prouder of you, though, Lycoris. I know Isabelle would have been, too.” He took Lycoris’s hand and squeezed it. “I need you to stay here for awhile, though, while I see about the house. Can you do that for me, Coris?”

“Coris,” he murmured. “Yes, yes, I can.”

“Good. We’ll fatten me up a bit and see what we can do about the house, and then we’ll take it from there. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Lycoris said, smiling.

He wasn’t allowed near Grimmauld Place for three weeks. According to Narcissa, who went over every day, they were detoxing it from harmful dark magic. Also, she said with a bit of a laugh, Sirius had rather put his stamp on the heir’s room and they were trying to tame it for Lycoris.

When he finally did move in with his three trunks, a house elf launched itself at his knees. “Master be bringing little master home!” it wailed. “Mistress would be so pleased!” 

“Off of him, Kreacher,” Sirius demanded, and he helped Lycoris out of the fireplace. “Bring up the trunks to his room and set about to unpacking them.”

Samhain, who was in Lycoris’s arms, jumped out of them to explore the house.

Kreacher, it seemed, would prove to be a friend and ally over the years, along with the portrait of Walburga Black, who loved her grandson immensely.

The first thing that Lycoris found was the family tapestry. It was rather odd. It showed all the generations of the Blacks. However, it didn’t show Lycoris’s mother. Instead, it showed a thin black line directly from his father’s scorched face to Lycoris himself, as if he were legitimate but no marriage had taken place. There was a similar line from his Uncle Regulus’s place on the tapestry, except the line ended with no name listed, only the title “Lady of the House of Black.” It was rather odd.

…

“Why are you even here?” Sirius asked angrily, sitting behind his desk. “Lycoris is coming this evening, as arranged.” He was wearing a corduroy suit with waistcoat and tie, his black hair twirling to his shoulders. He had gained back a bit of weight and was more than a ghost of the handsome wizard that he once was.

“We wanted to tell you about Lycoris,” Narcissa said carefully. “You deserve to know what name he was forced to live under.”

“What name? What does it matter?”

Lucius and Narcissa shared a look. Then, Lucius threw an old copy of The Daily Prophet on the desk, telling of Harry Potter’s murder and his Muggle relatives’ abuse of him. “We had to cover our tracks,” he explained. “For Lycoris, you must understand. We couldn’t let him live in fear of the fact that he might be discovered as the wizarding world’s Savior one day.”

Sirius looked at him with wide gray eyes and picked up the paper. “Who’s the kid that was drowned?”

“We found him in a morgue,” Lucius elaborated. “He was the right build, right height, we just had to charm the scar onto his forehead and make his eyes appear green. He wasn’t missed.”

“Well, at least you didn’t kill a Muggle to get the job done.” He sighed. “Did they really lock him in a cupboard and starve him while making him cook for them?” His eyes scanned the article quickly.

“Yes. When he came to us, he had shrunk his stomach so he wouldn’t be hungry. He was extremely malnourished. We had to bribe someone at Mungo’s for the more powerful counter-malnourishments until Severus agreed to brew them for us. It’s why he hates Muggles so much,” Narcissa explained.

“That and these beasts refused to allow any mention of the word magic, even though he was performing metamorphmagical skills and other early signs of magic from the age of six. He also didn’t appreciate that they lied about his name.”

“But I can’t believe it—not Lily and James. They wouldn’t steal a child.”

“The evidence is all before you,” Lucius countered. “Lycoris likes to keep his scar hidden, as you can imagine. I would wait until he’s comfortable enough around you to ask to see it. He’s rather ashamed of it.”

“Why? It shows that he survived the greatest Dark Lord our century has ever known!” Sirius countered.

“It shows that he was stolen and put in harm’s way. It’s evidence that the Dursleys used against him for being unnatural. It links him to his kidnappers, Sirius. Surely you can see this.” Narcissa looked at him imploringly.

“Lily and James. What did they have against Isabelle?” The name fell flat between the three of them, a shared secret not spoken of. “I hardly know anything about her apart from the fact that we were supposedly married.—I signed that affidavit you wanted.” He opened up a drawer and pulled out a document. “Full proof that I was married to Isabelle Rosier in February of 1979 and that we conceived one child, which we believed she had lost. This child we had named Lycoris and was found again by Heir Draco Malfoy in Diagon Alley.”

He handed it over. 

“She’s already been listed on the family tapestry and the Rosiers have been kind enough to give photographs of her to Coris. He has a shrine to her.”

“He is following the Old Ways,” Narcissa said. “And thank you. We all want what’s best for Lycoris.”

Sirius looked at them. “I guess I better stop regaling him with stories of my Hogwarts days. James is in every one of those stories.” Again, it fell flat. They all knew it wasn’t true. 

Sirius crossed his arms and sighed. “I think I’ll get him an Arithmancy study buddy. I know you don’t have tutors for that. Someone who isn’t a part of the Old Pureblood club.”

“Do you really think that’s wise, Black?” Lucius asked. “It’s only been three years. That’s not enough time to heal from such wounds.”

Narcissa put down a card. “He’s been coming to our house once a week during the holidays. For Lycoris. He’s sworn to secrecy.”

“My son does not need a mind healer.”

“Your son,” Lucius pushed out the words, “is a stolen child. Of course he needs a chance to better understand his feelings. In a perfect world, he would have grown up here, with you, and he could have been as Muggle-loving as you wanted. But that’s not what happened. He grew up hating Muggles before he even knew what they were. He embraced pureblood culture because it gave him back his identity. You should respect that.”

“Well, Malfoy, thank you for that,” Sirius said snidely, “and you’ll see Lycoris later this evening. I have a letter to write.”

Narcissa and Lucius glanced at each other before seeing themselves out. Sirius was left with the card, looking at it pensively. He put it away in a drawer.

…

Sirius Apparated them to a quiet little neighborhood. The houses were all perfectly ordinary and there was a calm about the place that Lycoris couldn’t quite place. “Why are we here?” he asked again.

“To meet with your Arithmancy partner,” Sirius declared.

“But this is a Muggle area.” Lycoris spat out the word as if it were the most disgusting thing he could ever speak.

“Yes, well, we find great minds in every setting. Come along, they’re expecting us.”

Lycoris was dressed in his black work robes, having had Potions that morning. His eyes were gray and his hair its usual lush black. It was usually fuller than his father’s, like his mother’s he supposed, but it was a small way to pay homage to her, that and the fact that it curled more.

He was ushered into one of the houses and was surprised to see two Muggles standing at the door, a timid Granger behind them. “Granger?” he asked in surprise, looking at his father. “Is this because she’s in Gryffindor?”

“She’s second in her class, after you, and I don’t want you falling behind in Arithmancy. I know how you tend to get caught up in your other studies.” They shared a look. Sirius obviously meant the Dark Arts.

“Yes, but she’s not,” he leaned into his father’s ear. “A pureblood.”

“No,” Sirius agreed. “But we need to broaden your horizons a bit, Lycoris.”

“Would Mother approve? She was in Slytherin! Her brother was a Death Eater!”

“So was mine. Now, no son of a Marauder is allowed to carry around that prejudice for long.—Now, these are Drs. Granger. They’re dentists.”

Lycoris, of course, knew what that was, abstractly. He’d never been taken to one by the Dursleys and had been finally escorted to a tooth healer by Narcissa Malfoy his first summer with them.

“You, of course, know Hermione.”

She pushed forward. “Black, we have ever so much to discuss. I’ve simply been dying to compare Number Eleven with someone of intelligence.”

“How’s Weasley?” he asked, referring to the youngest of the brood. She had a nasty run in with a magical artifact the year before and had ended up in St. Mungo’s, all her magic drained.

“Oh, as good as can be expected.” Granger bit her lower lip. “You’ve met my parents, but have you met my sister Elissa?”

She pointed to a pretty girl with corkscrew curls and large brown eyes. “She’d be going into our year if she were at Hogwarts, but, well, she’s not.”

Great, another Muggle. “Is there a study or something?” he asked warily.

“My bedroom has a desk. I brought in an extra chair. Lord Black explained about pureblood regulations, so one of my parents will be in the room to chaperone, and the door will be open,” she rushed on. “Come along, I’ll show you.”

The door slammed behind them. “She rather fancies you, I think,” Sirius teased as they left the house two hours later.

“What kind of torture was that? Muggles? They’re hateful creatures.”

“Not all of them are,” Sirius argued. “Drs. Granger embrace Hermione’s differences and her sister seems to be harmless. I want you to see the good in people, Lycoris, not just the bad.”

“The good. Right.” He was thinking the most unpleasant things he could do to the Grangers once night fell, if only he could Apparate back. Uncle Lucius had paid a hefty sum to get the trace taken off of his wand once he’d gotten it the beginning of first year. “I think I’d rather take dinner in my room tonight. Kreacher will have it sorted. He’s besotted with me.”

“Don’t sulk. Talk to me, Lycoris. I’m only trying to do what’s best for you.”

“Are you?” he asked in surprise. “Shoving my face in such filth? Making me interact with a girl who is so far beneath me, I won’t even bother calling her a witch!”

Sirius slapped him. “That is no way to speak of our hosts. And you’re going back next week. I don’t care if I have to drag you back myself.”

A plan was already forming in Lycoris’s mind. He wouldn’t let that Granger upstart be prefect. They had an entire year to plan. No, he would choose the next best candidate and tutor her himself, along with Draco, probably.

He and Draco poured over a list of names. “You’ve got Patil, her sister’s in Ravenclaw,” Draco offered. “I wouldn’t count on Lavender Brown. She’s a half-blood.”

“Then there’s Rosa Vane,” Lycoris added. “She’s smart. She always has the correct answer in Arithmancy. And, remember, she beat out Granger over that particular problem in Ancient Runes?””

“The easy one?” Draco asked. “How could I forget? It was wonderful seeing Granger humiliated like that. It took all my breeding not to show my glee outwardly.” They sniggered with each other, though Lycoris, to be fair, chuckled more than sniggered.

“Perhaps she’s our best bet. From an old family, though one of the Middle Houses, excellent parentage.”

“There is that problem with her half-blood brother,” Draco reminded. “Roland Vane. I can’t believe Vane let him take his surname.”

“There’s more to the story,” Lycoris guessed. “Let’s ask Aunt Narcissa; she would know.”

Narcissa was wearing pale blue robes that day and was helping Iolanthe with some basic potions instructions. “It’s important that you remember to turn clockwise and counterclockwise,” she reminded her daughter. “That could change the whole nature of the potion.”

“Yes,” Iolanthe said. “I can see that. I just can never remember which is which.”

“Well, you’re a young lady of nine,” Narcissa pointed out. “Perhaps it’s time you had your own magical watch that gives you the time and tells you where all of your family members are. We’ll have Lycoris put on it for you, shan’t we, dear? But you must remember how precious these pieces are. We can’t have them lost or fall into the wrong hands.”

Io nodded emphatically.

Narcissa kissed the top of her honey curls. “We’ll speak to your father about it.” She turned to the two boys. “I wasn’t expecting you in the school room, young men. I thought you didn’t have lessons this morning.”

“No,” Lycoris put in. “We wanted to ask you something.”

She looked at them appraisingly. “Something is afoot, if I’m not mistaken. Well, ask, then.”

“It’s about Miss Rosa Vane and her brother. The half-blood one. Why does he have the name Vane and why is there no heir?”

“An interesting question,” she mused, motioning to some free desk chairs. “Mr. Vane married Vanessa Harper about fifteen years ago now. She was widowed and had made a very imprudent marriage just out of Hogwarts, with a Muggle-born. She was anathema in society, as I’m sure you can imagine, but Vane would have her and it’s said he loved her dearly, so dearly he adopted her son by her first marriage. Has he graduated yet?”

“I don’t think so,” Draco put in. “I think he’s in Gryffindor.”

“When Miss Rosa was born she was doted on, but she wasn’t the male heir that was needed. Mrs. Vane died in childbirth so Mr. Vane married again, a Clearwater, who stood to inherit everything. They had one daughter and this Mrs. Vane died shortly afterward. It was all rather tragic. The daughter now stands to inherit millions as an heiress to the House of Clearwater.”

“Why hasn’t Miss Rosa been named heiress to her father’s estate?” Lycoris asked in confusion.

“Apparently he’s overly fond of his stepson. There are also rumors every few years that he means to marry again. Nothing has been decided definitely. Why?”

Lycoris and Draco looked at each other. “We want to make sure that Granger, the Mudblood, doesn’t become Gryffindor prefect. We’re trying to decide who to tutor.”

Narcissa looked at her son. “I wouldn’t underestimate a Vane. They may be Gryffindors, but they have a reputation for thinking outside the box. She may just pull it off, with the right help. Would you like me to invite her to tea?”

“Please,” Lycoris said. “We can put thse proposition to her then.”

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Part the Fourth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And you finally meet the Dark Lord ...

**Part the Fourth—**   
_“And so it is / The shorter story / No love, no glory / No hero in her sky”_   
**—“The Blower’s Daughter,” Damien Rice**

Miss Rosa Vane was all for the idea. Her brother Roland was Head Boy and she wanted to follow in the family footsteps.

When everyone was swooning over Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour, Lycoris and Draco could be found in the library with Rosa. She had the knack for solving things in new and unusual ways. She could not beat Granger for knowledge, but she could outsmart her on problems and problem-solving.

They had a real shot.

“Who looks good for Ravenclaw?” Draco asked one day when they were taking a break. 

“A half-blood, Jessie Irons. Her mother’s a pureblood so she’s the right sort. Not an upstart like Granger. I think Susan Bones might make it for Hufflepuff.”

“Another half-blood,” Rosa sighed, her tight curls held back in an elaborate twist. “Still, her aunt is head of the DMLE and her great-uncle is a Lord.”

“So, politically she’s solid,” Draco put in. “Let’s hope it’s Ernie MacMillan for the boy. Any news on Gryffindor?”

“It’s going to be a Muggle-born,” Rosa said, her voice not betraying her emotions. “Dean Thomas. He’s rather clever and neither Neville Longbottom nor Ron Weasley can hold a torch to him.”

“I don’t think we want Weasley,” Draco said of his nemesis. “That would be too much to bear.”

“And you, Draco? Who do you see as your partner?”

“Daphne Greengrass, hands down. We’ll just have to hope this comes off.”

However, before any of their plans could come to fruition, the Third Task ended tragically and it was rumored the Dark Lord was back.

And he was back. Uncle Lucius had confirmed it. It made Lycoris sick to his stomach.

When he returned home for summer hols, he couldn’t eat. He couldn’t leave his room for days. His hair grew out long and a golden blond, touching the back of his legs. It hadn’t been cut in nearly ten years, after all. He lost all ability to change the color of his eyes and his scar, that horrible scar that marked him as Harry Potter, protruded from his forehead.

Samhain, his ever faithful cat, lay curled up in his arms, and he would absently pet her and bury his face in her fur, just trying to shut the world out.

Sirius had sat by his bed one night, tracing the lightning bolt and saying how sorry he was. 

Kreacher was beside himself. He kept on bringing Lycoris his favorite foods but still they remained untouched.

“How long has he been like this?” Uncle Lucius asked from the side of his bed. It must be serious, then, for him to be allowed within the confines of the Order of the Phoenix. They had moved in almost immediately, much to Lycoris’s disapproval, along with the Weasley children and Granger of all people. Fortunately, he had been secluded in his room so they couldn’t see him like this.

“Nearly a week. He won’t eat anything but the broth I practically force down his throat. Lycoris has been like this since it was confirmed the Dark Lord was back.”

“Strange,” Lucius murmured, brushing back Lycoris’s hair and tracing the scar. “I wonder.—Lycoris, are you listening?”

Lycoris turned his head from Samhain’s black fur and looked back at his uncle with soulless purple eyes. 

“I need you to tell me why you fear the Dark Lord. You were raised to be a dark wizard and the Blacks, apart from your father, are dark. You have nothing to fear.”

“He tried to kill me,” he whispered back. “What if he tries again?”

Sirius sighed from his place near the door. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s rather simple,” Lucius responded, stroking Lycoris’s hair one more time, like he did when he was a small child and had nightmares of the Dursleys. “Make certain there are no Order members—none at all—in the house tomorrow night. And I need to keep the secret of the location, I’ll give it back tomorrow. We’ll have this all sorted.”

Lucius began to pull his hand away but Lycoris gripped it tightly. “Uncle. Severus is here.”

He nodded once succinctly. “Thank you, Lycoris.” He stood regally and looked over at his wife’s cousin. “I mean everyone, Black. Not even that werewolf you keep around. Send them all somewhere else. Tell them you think Lycoris is contagious or something and are sending for a Healer.”

Sirius nodded once. “Anything for Coris.”

Lucius came up to him and whispered in his ear dangerously, “Take care of my son.” He then swept from the room and Lycoris was all alone with Sirius again.

“Hey, now. Let’s get some quail into you. I know you’ve missed seeing Draco, Lacerta, and Io. And what about that romance you’re having with Rosa Vane? You need to get up your strength and maybe they can come by for a visit.”

“But the Order is here.”

“This is my house first, Coris. If need be we can move the Order somewhere else.”

Lucius came back the next day but he was not alone. A tall handsome man with chiseled features and blood red eyes with a brownish hue followed in his wake. Sirius looked angry, but he bit his lip and stood in the doorway as the man took a seat at the edge of Lycoris’s bed.

“Heir Lycoris,” he said in a deep voice, “do you know who I am?”

Lycoris looked at his features, at his long dark hair, his pianist fingers, his pale skin and breathed in deeply. “Are you the Dark Lord?”

The Dark Lord gave a thin-lipped smile and reached out hesitantly to Lycoris’s scar. “I would never cause the Heir to the House of Black such pain and suffering,” he murmured, “even if his father were a blood traitor. I would not cause such harm to you now, Heir Lycoris, unless we met on opposite sides of the battlefield.”

Lycoris shook his head vehemently and sat up. “I don’t—I’m not—“

“Hush, child, I know. Your uncle has informed me that your loyalties lie with your adoptive family.”

“I couldn’t find myself on either side of the war. I couldn’t hurt my father like that. Not when he recognized me.”

“I understand,” The Dark Lord breathed, “and I respect that decision. However, that does not mean that we cannot be associates.” His hand traced down Lycoris’s face. “Now, I hear that you are a metamorphmagus. Amaze me with your transformation now that your fears have been put to rest.”

Carefully the scar melted into smooth skin. Then the purple eyes turned to gray and the hair began to darken and shorten until it was once again chin length.

“Father,” Lycoris asked. “May I wear it as long as yours?”

“You’re not yet Lord Black, whelp,” he responded with a laugh. “You’re lucky I let you keep it so long.”

“It drove the Dursleys mad,” Lycoris informed the room as natural curls, far tighter than the Black’s, developed and the cheekbones were raised slightly higher.

“It suits,” the Dark Lord agreed. He ran his hand down Lycoris’s hair. “You truly look like a pureblood heir.”

Sirius cleared his throat. “Yes, well, if we’re done here.”

The Dark Lord held Lycoris’s gaze. “Yes. Heir Lycoris is back to rights. Keep him safe from this war that’s brewing, Lord Black. I know none of us wants anything to happen to him. Lord Malfoy,” he tilted his head, and then left the room.

Lycoris could only watch him go, feeling that something momentous—and not just involving the war—had happened.

He dreamt about the Dark Lord, so much so that it scared him. The brown-red eyes would follow him in his dreams, and the chiseled features would just be visible in the lamplight.

He was, therefore, surprised when he saw him again one day after his Potions lesson. “Heir Lycoris,” he said as he came into the classroom, looking at Snape, who quickly left. “I have a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?” Lycoris asked. “I—what?” He cursed his inability to speak clearly in front of this man. He wanted to get closer to him, maybe touch his hair. He shook himself from his thoughts. He really shouldn’t be thinking such things.

“I understand that you have a friendship with Miss Rosa Vane,” the Dark Lord began. “I wish you to exploit it.”

“Exploit it? Exploit it how?”

“Although it’s only a Middle House, the House of Vane is nonetheless important. I would hate for it to fall into the hands of that half-blood excuse of a wizard, Mr. Roland. Therefore, I would like you to go to Mr. Vane and say that if there is any chance of you one day marrying Rosa, you want the title completely invested in her, even if she should marry. Can you do this for me, Heir Lycoris?”

“I don’t want to marry her,” he admitted.

Red eyes looked into his gray ones.

“Just pretend you do. Take her to Hogsmeade weekends for a year or so and then pretend to lose interest. She’ll gain social capital for having been seen with you and you’ll save an ancient house from ruining its good name.” He held out a document, parchment crisp and new. “Please, Heir Lycoris. I depend on you in this.”

Carefully, Lycoris took the parchment. “I’ll try my best.”

Rosa was less than pleased. “Roland is now Master Roland Vane,” she seethed one day at Grimmauld Place. “I don’t know what changed Father’s mind, but all of a sudden he was the heir.”

Lycoris knew exactly what happened. His attempt at blackmail had backfired. He knew he should have brought Uncle Lucius with him. He cursed himself for wanting to do this on his own.

“Perhaps your father will remarry again and have an heir of Vane blood,” he offered in conciliation.

“He won’t do that. He loves his precious Roland too much. I thought—being his own daughter—but, no.” She sighed. “Tell me of better things.”

“Granger’s only talked to me four times today. She’s staying here, unfortunately, and it’s driving me to distraction.”

“Yes, I wonder when we’ll find out about being prefect or not,” she mused. “My marks did significantly increase with your and Heir Draco’s help.”

“We do try,” was the answer she was given.

**…**

With a jut of his wand, Lycoris pushed Draco to the ground, ending the Dark Arts duel. His protective shield felt constricting and he immediately took off the helmet, which was made of black dragonhide.

“Good fight,” he told his cousin.

Draco laughed from the ground. “Yeah. Good fight.”

The sound of clapping from behind Lycoris filled the room and both boys turned to look. There, standing in black robes and with his handsome features, was the Dark Lord.

Lycoris had only met him the two times, and he still took his breath away. He rather wondered at the sensation, why he should react so strongly to the Dark Lord. He supposed it was what all his followers felt and that’s why they followed him. Still, there seemed to be something more…

“Well done, young men,” the Dark Lord said. “I look forward to seeing you mature in your magical prowess. Heir Draco, I can only hope that you will follow in your father’s footsteps and join my ranks.”

“Y-yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord.” Draco quickly picked himself off the ground and took off his own helmet, his hair in disarray.

The Dark Lord looked over him carefully. “Yes, you will make a fine duelist. Your Dark Arts tutor has taught you well.”

Draco bowed.

Lycoris looked on in a bit of amusement. He wondered why the Dark Lord was here at Malfoy Manor, why he was watching two boys not even in their fifth year fight each other.

“You may go,” the Dark Lord dismissed.

Turning to leave and looking forward to a cooling shower, Lycoris felt spindly fingers on his shoulder.

“Stay,” the Dark Lord whispered. “I have much to discuss with you.”

Lycoris looked back over his shoulder and let Draco leave the room, his metamorphically changed gray eyes piercing into red-brown.

“Out of curiosity, explain to me why Mr. Roland is now Master Roland Vane. I thought I gave you papers to ensure that Miss Rosa became the undoubted heiress to the estate.”

“I gave them to Mr. Vane,” he answered crisply. “I told him if there was any hope that I would court his daughter and one day make her Lady Black, that he would sign the papers. He called my bluff.”

“And now one of the pureblood houses will have a half-blood as its master,” The Dark Lord responded archly. “Well, child, you tried your best. If the lure of his daughter being the preeminent Lady in all of wizarding Britain was not enough, then I doubt anything short of torture would be.” His fingers, which had been resting on Lycoris’s shoulder, now skated up his cheek. “What are your intentions toward Miss Rosa?”

“Is it any of your concern? You know my father is a member of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Yet he called me when you were despondent for fear that I might kill you because your kidnappers had been James and Lily Potter. He knew I was the only one who could reassure you and that I meant you no ill will, Lycoris, and I don’t. I will allow you to remain neutral in this conflict for the simple reason of your status and the crimes the Light has committed against you.”

Lycoris closed his eyes. “I’ve only ever felt friendship for her. It is others who saw different possibilities.”

The fingers drifted down to his neck and pulled his head upward until soft lips met his. The kiss was gentle, tender, hesitant, and when the Dark Lord pulled away Lycoris’s eyes fluttered open.

“What was that?”

“An offer.”

“I—I don’t understand. I’m not allowed to kiss a maiden unless an offer of courtship is in place and not even then, and you—I—no one’s ever told me.—”

“I’ll let your Uncle Lucius explain,” The Dark Lord said softly. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. I will, however, tell you, that I am a generous and loyal companion. I never bed my followers and, in fact, I have never been with another wizard—“

“Only witches.”

“Only male Muggles.”

Lycoris swallowed. He hated Muggles.

“I was faithful to them until such a time when I could not overlook what they were any longer.”

“What was your longest relationship?” Lycoris asked hesitantly.

“Four years.”

Silence enveloped them.

The Dark Lord leaned his head up against Lycoris’s. “I will answer any and all questions you may have. You have only to send an owl to ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle.’”

Lycoris breathed out a laugh. “I always wondered what your name was.”

“Now you know.—Go. Find your uncle.”

Nodding, Lycoris pulled away and headed for the door. He did not look back.

Uncle Lucius was in his study, pouring over some parchments, but he looked up with a smile when he saw Lycoris. “Is Lord Black letting you stay longer? For dinner perhaps?”

Lycoris shook his head. “No. I just. I need to ask you something—and I can’t ask Father. It’s all too new.”

“Yes, a year is a short time, especially when you spend most of it at Hogwarts. Come, what’s on your mind?”

He couldn’t meet his uncle’s eyes. “He kissed me.”

“Draco?” Lucius sounded genuinely surprised.

“No,” Lycoris said, shaking his head. “Not Draco. That would be weird.”

“Thank the gods. That would have been a mess. You’re both the Heirs to One of the Four Lords.”

Lycoris looked at him askance. “So you’re not surprised that I’ve been kissed by a wizard?”

“You’re a beautiful, wealthy, intelligent, powerful wizard, Lycoris. Of course, I’m not surprised. Did he just kiss you or was there anything more?”

“He—he wants to be my lover. He assured me he’s a kind and generous lover, but I don’t understand. He’s male. What’s more, he’s dark. My father’s in the Order of the Phoenix.”

“You have lessons in the Dark Arts that your father allows so that you will be ‘well-rounded’ and ‘prepared for life.’ Narcissa and I brought you up to be a dark wizard. The fact that he’s male simply means that you cannot marry him. You will need to marry to produce an heir. However long this liaison lasts is up to you and this wizard, but it is not unheard of. Is he of good standing?”

“The best.”

Lucius looked pensive. “And you won’t tell me who it is.”

“I’m not sure if I should.”

“It would be easier for me to guide you in this matter if I knew his name. You say he’s of the best of standing, but apart from you, Draco, the Bones, the Princes, the Selwyns, and the Crouches, I can think of no one. There is Heir Chase Selwyn, of course, but he’s about Io’s age. Octavian Prince is probably not who you refer to either. It’s not Draco, and Barty Crouch, Jr. is supposed to be in Azkaban.”

Lycoris shook his head. “It’s—“ He took a seat. “It’s the Dark Lord.”

Lucius’ eyebrows rose involuntarily. “The Dark Lord approached you.”

“Yes.”

“Well, your father certainly won’t be happy if he finds out.” He seemed pensive but Lycoris couldn’t meet his eyes. “You sleep on it. You seem befuddled by the entire situation. The most I can do at this point is assure you that there is nothing wrong in this situation. It is not uncommon. You are old enough, or will be in a matter of days. These friendships are recognized.”

“Do you have a lover?”

“I would never be unfaithful to your aunt,” he replied perhaps a little harshly. “But if I did, it would be a matter between her, my lover, and myself. You must understand that it would be a travesty for a wizard to take a witch as a lover as illegitimate children might be produced.”

“I can produce children.”

Lycoris met Lucius’ eyes then, head on and unforgiving. Lucius, to give him credit, looked calmly back. “The metamorphmagus gene, I presume.”

He nodded. 

“You must tell the Dark Lord if you enter a relationship with him. This could change the dynamic.”

“I—see.”

“Was he at all insistent that you accept? Did he pressure you?”

Lycoris shook his head, his long hair falling into his eyes. “No. He told me I could ask him any question I wanted and to ask you about the situation.”

Lucius breathed out through his nose. “He really is kind and generous in these matters.—Go, before your father misses you. I’m sure those horrible Weasleys are about to annoy you.”

And they were along with Hermione Granger. How he hated that witch!

“Something’s wrong,” she immediately pointed out over dinner. His hair was wet about his face from his shower. He didn’t believe in drying charms. If it were necessary to dry it, he would just change it with his metamorphmagus skills. Mrs. Weasley had cooked again, although Kreacher had made him oysters. The matronly witch had huffed at the house elf but didn’t say anything. “I can tell.”

“You don’t know me well enough to tell, Granger,” he reminded her.

He looked around the table at faces he didn’t particularly like.

“Lessons go well, Heir Lycoris?” Lupin asked from his spot beside Sirius. Now that Lycoris thought about it, the two were a little close.

“Yes. I love dueling with Draco.”

“Tell me you beat the whelp,” Sirius put in, and Lycoris smiled.

“I usually do.”

“Good boy. Make your mother proud.” Lycoris wondered if he were talking about Isabelle Rosier. He always seemed to wonder that.

There was a sadness to Lycoris’s answering smile, but he quickly picked up an oyster. He missed dinners at Malfoy Manor, where they would all sit and pray together to the old gods, and there was a real sense of family. With Sirius, in this short month with the house bustling with Order members, he hadn’t really felt a connection.

“May I talk to you?” he asked Sirius as they were leaving the kitchen. Samhain was at his heels. 

“Of course,” he said in mock happiness. “Why don’t we just go up to the library and we’ll kick Hermione out if we have to.”

When the library door was closed, Lycoris wrestled with himself. He picked up his familiar and stroked her just for comfort before he asked, “Is Lupin your lover?”

“What?” Sirius gasped.

“I think I have a right to know,” he continued. “I thought you were being faithful to Mother’s memory, and he’s a werewolf.” He scoffed. “He’s not fit to associate with the House of Black.”

“That is the Malfoys talking, not you, Lycoris,” Sirius answered darkly. “And we both know we don’t know who your mother really was.” It was like a slap in the face.

“Yes,” he ground out. “The Dementors. I know. But Isabelle Rosier was my mother as far as I’m concerned,” he sighed and took a seat. Samhain hopped out of his lap. “Is he your lover? I’m getting old enough to tell and I think I should know if someone suddenly gets a say in my life.”

“I am your father,” Sirius stated sternly, any sign of cheer gone from his face. “I know I let you go over to the Malfoys and have your accursed ‘lessons’ and Lucius will always be more your father than I will, but I decide. I may not have liked lessons in politics and languages and dark arts dueling over the summer when I was your age, but you were brought up in that culture. I’m not going to rip it away from you. I even let you see that accursed mind healer! I would never ask you to be anyone other than exactly who you are. And I would never let a lover say otherwise.”

“But is he? Your lover?”

“I—no. He’s not. We’re just close friends, Lycoris. Now how did you even hear about any of it?”

“I’m nearly fifteen. It was explained to me. I might be approached at Hogwarts.”

Sirius seemed to deflate. “Yes, you very well might be. You’re handsome and powerful. But what of Rosa Vane?”

Lycoris scoffed. “I told Mr. Vane that if he wanted me to consider Rosa as the future Lady Black that she must officially become Mistress Vane and eventually Madam Vane even after her marriage. The title must be firmly vested in her. He then made Master Roland his heir. I won’t go back on my word.”

Sirius leaned against the edge of a table. “I’m sorry, Lycoris. I know what a good friend she is to you. But whatever possessed you to ask for such a thing? You don’t need the title.”

“The Dark Lord didn’t want a half-blood Vane the head of the house. He asked it, as a favor.”

“I knew I never should have had him come here. He now has a hold over the House of Black, however weak. Be sure he’ll exploit it to the last.”

“No, I don’t think he will,” Lycoris began cautiously. “He’s too interested in a dark Lord Black to alienate you before I’m fully an adult.”

“You may be right.”

“Does Dumbledore know? That he was here?” Lycoris fidgeted with the end of his sleeve.

“No, and he never will. This is a private family matter. The Order will never get involved concerning you.”

“I wish you would tell them all to leave.”

“I know, Coris. But I need to aid in this war somehow. I got framed and sent to Azkaban for twelve years. Those were twelve long years you were without a father.”

“Do you really think you are my father? Truly?” A hint of vulnerability flashed in his gray eyes and Sirius reached out to run his hand soothingly through Lycoris’s hair.

“As certain as I draw breath. But I couldn’t be prouder, Lycoris. Whether you’re my son or my nephew, you will always be my heir, above any other children I may have. I swore an oath in Azkaban that you were my son and I will hold by that, Lycoris. What was done to you was criminal, and no Black child should ever have to suffer through it.”

Lycoris nodded. “Thank you, Father.”

Sirius grabbed him in a bear hug. “Now, why don’t you write to your Aunt Narcissa and see if you can go over for breakfast before lessons? That way you won’t have to see the admiring Miss Granger.”

Laughing, Lycoris nodded.

“And I’ll try not to seem so overly-friendly with Remus—as long as you don’t say anything about him being a werewolf. I know you cling to pureblood identity because your very identity was stripped from you, Lycoris, but please. Try to show more compassion.”

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Part the Fifth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is being updated on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

**Part the Fifth—**   
_“But I will go down with this ship / And I won’t put my hands up and surrender / There will be no white flag above my door / I’m in love with you and always will be”_   
**—“White Flag,” Dido**

Lycoris wrote two letters that night. One was to Narcissa, who of course was happy to have him, and the other was to the Dark Lord: Tom Marvolo Riddle. He asked to meet him, again, when he could next free himself from his duties. Lycoris didn’t think it was too much to ask. Instead, he just had some lingering concerns that he’d rather not address in a letter.

He thought of those red-brown eyes, piercing through him, of those pianist fingers holding his cheek, and a chill of pleasure ran down his spine. He fancied the Dark Lord. There was nothing for it. Surely that’s what this was.

“What is happening to me?” he whispered to Samhain one night as he looked out toward the moon. “Why do I feel this way?”

The Dark Lord was waiting for him in Lucius’s office the next week, the two men drinking a whiskey together.

The Dark Lord was still handsome, with defined cheekbones and a strong chin. His hair was long and came down into a ponytail, showing he was the Lord of a pureblood House. 

“I think I need one of those,” Lycoris greeted and gestured to his uncle’s drink.

“Lycoris, I think you’re a bit young.” His blue eyes were unforgiving as they pierced through him.

“I’m about to have a romantic conversation with the Dark Lord. I think I need some bucking up.”

Lucius didn’t look like he was going to budge on the matter.

“Why don’t we order some tea, and pour some whiskey into his cup?” the Dark Lord suggested. “Just a hint. Nothing major.”

“Your aunt will be angry if she hears of this.”

“Then she won’t hear of it,” Lycoris said, putting up his hands.

The matter was settled then. The tea was ordered, the whiskey poured, and Lucius bowed himself out of the room.

The two sat in relative silence for several minutes while Lycoris slowly drank his tea. Then, he finally looked up to see the Dark Lord staring back at him.

“What should I call you?”

“That would depend. Are we having a chat as a Dark Lord to a dark pupil or as two men ready to become lovers?”

“The second. I think,” Lycoris added hastily. He thought of those fingers in his hair and tried not to gulp. “But I need more information first. I just—this is all confused.”

“Marvolo then. It’s what my friends at school called me. Your Uncle Lucius’s father called me by that name.”

“Marvolo.” He tried out the name on his tongue. “It suits you.”

“I like to think that it does.”

Lycoris raised his hand and it hovered above the Dark Lord’s cheek. “May I, Marvolo?” His heart raced at the prospect, but he held Marvolo’s eyes, begging for the chance to touch him.

They stared at each other while Lycoris’s hand fell onto the skin, caressing it, falling down to the jawline before he took his hand away again. His fingers burned where they had touched Marvolo.

“Do you fancy younger wizards like me and that’s why your longest relationship has only been four years?” he asked quietly, taking another sip of his tea.

“No. I fancy older men. Thirty, maybe forty. The four years came because he was a Muggle. Otherwise it would have lasted longer.”

“Then why me?”

Marvolo reached out with his hand now and let it comb through Lycoris’s hair. “You were so lost the day I met you. Beautiful and nearly broken. But I looked into your purple eyes and saw strength. Pureblood strength. The Black strength. I knew that fear had not broken you, merely that you had not learned how to process the great fear of coming up against a Dark Lord, which is no crime.

“Then I saw more strength in you, the strength of a young man who had survived living with Muggles for a decade. You were forced to serve that filth and were beaten down by it, but still you flourished. Lucius has told me a great deal about your childhood, about how you would go to the library and read, and learn how to control your magic and your metamorphmagus skills. It was that strength, Lycoris, that made me choose you. I wasn’t going to interfere when I thought you and Miss Rosa were going to make a match, but when you weren’t—well, I just couldn’t resist, I suppose.”

“I know I’m fifteen on Tuesday, but I’m not ready for sex. I just—no.”

“I can respect that. We have years, potentially decades together, Lycoris. Physical intimacy will come in time. May I ask two boons?”

“Boons? You sound like a Medieval knight.”

“Perhaps,” Marvolo agreed. “But I ask for them nonetheless.”

Lycoris laughed and said, “By all means, sir knight.” His heart had lodged in his throat, but he still looked in those brown-red eyes.

“The first is that when we are alone, you show your eyes in their true color. The gray hides so many emotions and I would like to know what you feel, that you are happy in our arrangement or if I am pushing you too far.”

His eyes flicked purple. “I can do that.”

Marvolo reached up and touched Lycoris’s chin. “Beautiful.—The second is for a kiss.”

“You don’t even know if I’m attracted to you,” he lied.

“Of course you are, otherwise you wouldn’t be here. You would have sent an owl with your apologies, and it would have been done with.”

“You’re so arrogant,” Lycoris pointed out.

“I think you like it,” Marvolo assessed as he brought his lips down onto Lycoris’s gently. 

At first there was only pressure and then Lycoris surged upward, his hand grasping at Marvolo’s hair as an anchor to his sudden swell of emotion. Marvolo opened his arms, and Lycoris happily fell into them, crawling onto Marvolo’s lap, but still the kiss remained relatively chaste if heated.

When the kiss finally broke, Marvolo’s hair was mussed and Lycoris was looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry—I just—By the gods—“ Lycoris breathed out, worried that he’d gone too far.

“Hush, Lycoris, I asked for a kiss. Never apologize for anything that happens between us.” 

“I—I need to tell you something.” Lycoris took in a deep breath. “I’m a metamorphmagus. When I was a child, I made my stomach smaller after studying a book on anatomy so I wouldn’t be as hungry. I know, that with enough study, I can grow a womb and have children.” He looked into Marvolo’s eyes. “You have to know that that’s a reality for me—for us. I don’t want you to think that this is going to end when I marry some witch—“

Marvolo lowered his head down again and lips met lips, surer, and then one kiss followed another, and Lycoris thought he might actually be snogging the Dark Lord, but he wasn’t entirely sure. His hand was back in Marvolo’s hair and their bodies were pressed up against one another as Marvolo held Lycoris in his arms.

A knock sounded at the door.

Lycoris froze. Marvolo merely ran a hand down his face. Taking out his wand, Marvolo smoothed his hair and he allowed Lycoris to move to his side.

“Enter,” he intoned.

Lucius was carefully waiting on the other side. “I hope matters have been resolved,” he stated, tweaking Lycoris’s ear as he entered. “I’m afraid that Narcissa informs me that dinner is served and since you are here as a suitor and not as my lord, I took the liberty of coming to interrupt you.”

“Dinner. Right.” Lycoris sighed. “I promised Father that I would have a boys night with him in Diagon Alley. Hermione Granger is proving—interesting.”

“The Mudblood?” Marvolo asked. “How curious. Your supposed mother was a Mudblood who married into the Potter line, so such advantageous marriages haven’t been unheard of. Of course, you’d need the Lord of you House’s permission first.”

“Which will never be an issue,” Lycoris returned flatly. “She repulses me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Marvolo responded, “given our connection. That is another demand I must make. Despite what you said, if at any time you wish to pay court to a witch, or your father wishes you to, you must do me the courtesy of informing me so we may have a rational discussion on it.”

“I’m not a cheater,” Lycoris began, but Marvolo quelled him with a look.

“I never suggested that you were. There are simply Pureblood duties that need to be attended to at some point, if you choose to go about them the more conventional way. I merely wish to be given the courtesy of a discussion.”

Lycoris looked over at his uncle, then back at Marvolo. “It’s not needed, but you have my word.”

Marvolo gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Thank you, Lycoris.” He turned to Lucius. “If I may see the young man out before I join you for dinner?”

“By all means, my lord.”

The walk to the floo was silent, Lycoris heavily aware of who exactly he was walking next to. When they finally reached the fireplace, he took in a deep breath, and turned to Marvolo. “Can I tell people I have a boyfriend?”

“If you like, as long as you reveal nothing more than that I’m a pureblood and a Slytherin.”

“And out of Hogwarts?” Lycoris half-asked, half-joked.

“And that.” Marvolo reached out and caressed the line of Lycoris’s jaw. Lycoris’s heart stuttered. “What are you called? By your friends and family?”

“Coris, sometimes,” Lycoris admitted. Then he was kissed again, softly and sweetly. 

“Enjoy the time with your father, Coris, and don’t forget to shift your eyes back.”

They smiled at each other.

“You’re smiling more than usual,” Sirius remarked as they sat in the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius was rather fond of it, and if he wanted to get Lycoris out of the house and relax a bit and this is where he chose to do it, then Lycoris wasn’t going to say anything against it. “Actually, you rarely smile except after a good fight with Draco Malfoy and I know you just went over to drop off a book.”

“I saw Io,” Lycoris smoothly lied. “She’s my littlest cousin? She’s going to Hogwarts this year and Draco and I are both trying to recruit her for our houses.”

“The sibling rivalry continues,” Sirius remarked. “You know, I don’t like the Malfoys”—they shared a laugh—“but I never had with Regulus what you and Draco have. I’m truly happy for you, Coris. After the horrors of your early childhood, you deserve the happiness siblings can give you.”

“I’m glad you can admit they are my siblings,” Lycoris remarked quietly. “That’s what they are to me after all.”

Sirius’s warm hand enveloped his. “Now tell me, which house?”

“Oh, Slytherin, definitely, if I had to choose. She’s a devious little thing. Io finds out just how to wrap you around her finger and then pounces, all the while looking like a princess, not that she isn’t one. However, if I were honest, I would say Hufflepuff. The whole family’s in a dither.”

They laughed heartily.

“When I was on the run and after Pettigrew, I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I looked for your bed in the third year boys’ dorm. I tore apart Weasley’s bed obviously, but I took a few extra moments to analyze each bed, and I couldn’t find one that would have belonged to you. I thought you’d ended up in Slytherin with the rest of the Blacks. Then, once I was free, I learned you were in Ravenclaw, and I couldn’t have been prouder if you’d wound up in my old house. A Black, clever enough to get in there. It was unthinkable! And in a few days we’ll find out if you’ve made Prefect!”

“Father,” Lycoris asked hesitantly. “If I make Prefect, and Draco does, too, could we and the Malfoys go out to The White Witch for dinner? To celebrate? I mean, just you, me, Draco, Aunt Narcissa, and Uncle Lucius. I love the girls, but they won’t understand, and I’d rather it just be Draco and I.”

“No Rosa Vane, then, if she manages to squeak past Hermione?”

Lycoris shook his head.

“I’ll write to Malfoy tonight and suggest it. I daresay you’ll want to sleep over so you and Draco can talk the night away?”

“Oh, really? May I?” All of these things he’d taken for granted before his father’s release were now novelty items to him.

“Of course you can. I won’t inflict a grieving or a triumphant Hermione on you, or the celebration Mrs. Weasley is bound to put on. That woman drives me insane. She keeps calling you dark.”

Lycoris laughed. “Well, if that’s all.”

Sirius flapped his napkin at him. “No son of mine will be called dark.”

“Father, I am a dark wizard. You know this.”

“That doesn’t mean other people get to say it,” Sirius griped, a scowl on his face. His gray eyes were sullen and had that look in them as if he were thinking about something rather unpleasant, which always made Lycoris uncomfortable, but he let it pass. Soon, Sirius came out of it.

Hermione Granger was named Prefect, and she managed to corner Lycoris the moment he got his owl and was opening it up in front of his father.

“Oh isn’t it just wonderful?” she breathed. “We’ll be prefects together!”

“Out!” Sirius cried. “Let him open his owl in peace!”

“But please—I want to see—“

Lycoris just huffed and opened up the package and a shining button fell out. “Write Uncle Lucius. We’re going out tonight.” 

But then he was attacked by a mass of bushy brown hair who was screaming in his ear and he held his arms out wide, not wanting to hug her. 

“Oh, I just knew it! I knew that Vane wouldn’t get it and that we would be prefects together! Isn’t it just wonderful? We can go on patrols together and do all sorts of things!”

“Hermione!” Sirius said, pulling her off his son. “Let Coris breathe.”

“Right,” she said, straightening her jumper. “Of course. But isn’t this wonderful? We shall have to go to Diagon Alley together, with the Weasleys of course, oh, poor Ron, I don’t think he made Prefect.”

“I’ll get my things with the Malfoys as I always do,” Lycoris interjected. “Family tradition.—And here’s Samhain.”

“What a horrid thing to name your cat! After a Dark Holiday of all things!”

“Miss Granger,” Sirius said, stepping in. “What you call a ‘Dark Holiday’ is actually a wizarding holiday. I myself follow it. I know Dumbledore does privately. Now, I have a letter to write, and I’m sure that Coris has his robes to pick out for this evening.—Actually, Coris, floo call The White Witch and confirm our reservation.”

Lycoris favored deep reds and so chose a robe of that color. He saw Hermione looking at him reproachfully, and she even asked, “Why wasn’t I invited?”

“I’m having a private dinner with my cousin.”

“But I’ve made prefect, too!”

“You wouldn’t be allowed in, dear,” Mrs. Weasley tried to soothe. “Only purebloods are.”

“But that’s just horrible!” She stamped her foot. “We should be out celebrating. Together.”

“Sorry, sweet pea,” Sirius said, coming down the stairs in dark blue robes. “Blacks and Malfoys only. You have to remember that Lycoris was raised as a Malfoy and likes to have family dinners with them occasionally.”

It was a raucous affair. Narcissa allowed champagne and Draco and Lycoris promptly got drunk off of it. They had to be dragged through the floo back to Malfoy Manor and soundly put back to bed.

Lycoris woke up with a pounding headache.

He wasn’t alone.

“Drink this,” the deep voice of Marvolo insisted as a vial was pressed to his lips. “It’s a sobriety potion.”

Taking it, Lycoris downed it in one go and immediately felt the effects. Pushing himself upward, on the pillows, he asked, “Marvolo? What are you doing here?” He must look a fright. This was the worst possible scenario in front of—in front of—he blushed.

“I came to congratulate my lover on making Prefect,” Marvolo murmured quietly. “How’s the head?”

“Better,” he answered, looking down and seeing he was wearing his old Quidditch jersey. He got issued a new one every year. 

“Give it a few minutes, then you’ll be right as rain,” Marvolo whispered. He leaned forward and brushed Lycoris’s hair to one side. “You’re quite delectable when you’ve just woken up.”

“I don’t feel quite so delectable,” Lycoris admitted. He felt horrible. Absolutely undesirable—and then Marvolo would change his mind—and then—“I have this horrible taste in my mouth.”

“I thought you might.” Marvolo reached for a second vial. “Freshens breath after the worst of nights. Drink up.”

“You came awfully prepared,” Lycoris remarked as he took it, feeling how smooth it was as it went down his throat. Immediately, it felt like a cool wind was moving through his mouth and he breathed out a hint of mint.

“There you are,” Marvolo said, leaning forward and kissing him softly. “Congratulations. I had no doubt.”

Lycoris breathed out. “Hermione Granger made it through. We weren’t able to block her.” He sighed.

“Occasionally there comes along a tenacious Muggleborn who is descended from a Squib. You can tell by her name: Hermione. Your supposed mother was the same. I even tried to recruit her, although if I had known the crime she had performed against magic, I would have outright killed her before she got the chance to hurt you.” He looked at Lycoris. “How is your head?”

“Much better. How is Aunt Narcissa allowing you in my room?”

“I had to take an oath that I would not force you to do anything you weren’t entirely committed to.” He said it with such a straight face that he simply must be telling the truth.

Lycoris couldn’t help but laugh. “The Dark Lord—thwarted in love.” Oh, by the old gods, how his chiseled features made Lycoris’s heart flip flop.

“I’ll show you thwarted,” he threatened, pressing a hand against Lycrosis’s pillow and leaning his face against Lycoris’s. “Tell me when to stop.”

“I’m as silent as a ghostless grave.” He smiled.

Then soft lips descended on his chapped ones, and Lycoris leaned up into the kiss, smooth, sweet, tasting of morning eggs and porridge. Lycoris hadn’t even realized until he registered this that his tongue had snuck out between his lips and had caressed Marvolo’s.

He leaned back, “I’m sorry,” he squeaked. “I didn’t mean—“

“Hush, now,” Marvolo murmured. “I told you never to apologize for anything that happened between us.”

Lycoris was being kissed again, harder, and he poked his tongue out, only to have it be answered by a stronger, surer tongue, and the kiss deepened and shivered, until finally they pulled away.

“I wish you could come to Grimmauld Place again. Not all this cloak and dagger,” Lycoris breathed, their lips so close that they shared the air. 

“You know that’s not possible, Coris. There are Order members, Dumbledore, not to mention, your father.”

“Yes, Father,” Lycoris agreed. “I don’t know what he’d say if he found I’d taken a lover. I suppose he’d be horrified.”

Marvolo reached up and combed his fingers through Lycoris’s hair. “Is he so disconnected to the Old Ways?”

“Yes and no,” Lycoris breathed, looking into Marvolo’s red eyes. “He speaks about the old holidays, he dresses in casual wizard robes, he lets me have my lessons, and yet he fights for Muggle rights in the war. I know he doesn’t speak of James and Lily Potter because of my relationship with them, but I know he doesn’t think ill of them.” He thought a moment. “Come to think of it, he might have a lady friend.”

“What makes you think that?” The hand still combed through his hair, and Lycoris closed his purple eyes in pleasure.

“He seemed horrified that I suggested that he and Remus were lovers and—he—well—sometimes he goes off by himself. It’s just a thought. Perhaps I should ask him about it.”

“Perhaps you should,” Marvolo agreed. “Do you know if you’ll be displaced?”

“Sirius promised that I wouldn’t be. I even appear on the family tapestry as his lawful son. He’s signed so many papers making me legitimate, I don’t think he’d go back on them. I could be his son. We just don’t know.”

“You’ve never thought of doing a blood test?”

“I think Sirius is too afraid that I wouldn’t be his. A blood test would only prove that I was of his blood—not that I was legitimate.”

“Of course,” Marvolo agreed. “You should ask. Today. It’s better not to be left wondering.” He tugged on Lycoris’s hair gently. “And I don’t want to hear anything about you and Rosa Vane this year. I know that Mudblood pushes herself on you and it cannot be helped, but I want only friendship between you and the ladies.”

Lycoris smiled. “Jealous much?”

“Where you are concerned, very.” Marvolo leaned in to kiss him and Lycoris ducked away, feeling a little playful.

“As long as you’re not jealous of my cousins. I spend most of my time with them and I won’t have anyone assuming anything untoward between me and either Draco or Lacerta.”

Marvolo leaned in. “I know they’re as good as your siblings,” Marvolo answered, finally gaining his desired kiss, stopping Lycoris’s heart once again. “And I know the Malfoy boy is sweet on someone.”

“What?” Lycoris squeaked, instantly throwing himself out of bed. “He’s never told me!”

He rushed to the connecting door and threw it open, Marvolo laughing all the while, safely hidden by the drapes of the bed. “Draco!”

A moan met his efforts. That didn’t deter Lycoris. He rushed over to the bed and grabbed Draco’s silk pyjamas. “You. Some girl. Spill.”

“Can’t this wait?” he griped.

“No!” Lycoris shouted, and Draco clutched his head. 

“I need coffee. Coffee is supposed to help.”

Lycoris snapped his fingers and Dobby was there with a hangover potion. Draco instantly took it and within moments looked better. “What’s this about me and a girl?”

“You’re sweet on some girl! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought it wasn’t important. She’s going into her third year, but her birthday’s in October.”

“Of course it’s important. Wait, October? Are we talking about Miss Astoria Greengrass?”

Draco colored.

“We are! You dog! Never saying a word to me!”

“How did you find out?”

“The Dark Lord,” Lycoris answered truthfully. “I couldn’t wait a second longer before confronting you.”

“Father must have told him,” Draco muttered darkly. “What time is it?” He looked at his clock. “Looks like we’ve missed breakfast.”

“Aunt Narcissa will have planned for this and have had something sent up.”

“Most likely. She thinks of everything. Come, stay with me, and you can tell me why the Dark Lord told you.” 

It was Lycoris’s turn to pink. “Let me just get something and I’ll be right back. He moved into his room and saw Marvolo. He kissed him on the lips. “This is my cue to go.”

“I see. Not a word about us,” he murmured and then was gone with a rustle of robes. “After all, he’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Lycoris returned home in a spare set of robes he always kept at Malfoy Manor and he instantly sought Sirius out. “No lingering effects then?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Lycoris bantered. “You know exactly what state you left me in last night. It did not leave me with a happy awakening.”

Sirius grinned wolfishly. “It’s a rite of passage in each man’s young life,” he answered. “You’re a bit young at fifteen, but still. Now you know which potions you need to stock up on when you leave home for one of the smaller Black properties.”

“Speaking of the Blacks,” Lycoris began hesitantly. “You know how I asked you if Remus was your lover?”

“And I admitted he wasn’t,” Sirius put in.

“Yes,” Lycoris continued. “But have you been seeing anyone? Courting someone? I wouldn’t blame you if you were—I just, want to know.”

“Her name is Florence. Florence Sweetings. She’s the youngest of three daughters and, well, has been written off by her family. I know you don’t like hearing about Lily and James, but I went to their graves to yell at them for all they did to you, kicked their stones a bit, and she grabbed me and held me as I cried. I took her for a drink at the local pub and, without going into details, told her how they had ruined my only son’s life. She was kind, and understanding, and just so beautiful. Not as beautiful or wonderful as—“ he paused “—that doesn’t matter. I went and called on her. And I went again. And it’s been months now and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think that I was replacing your mum or, gods forbid, you.”

“Can I meet her?”

“Of course you can, if you don’t mind going to Godric’s Hollow and seeing the house where it all happened.”

“I think I can take it,” Lycoris said bravely. “Should I look different? Short hair?”

“No, Coris, look exactly as you are.”


	6. Interlude

**Interlude—**   
_“We’re all bloodless and blind / And longing for a life / Beyond the silver moon”_   
**—“Tired of Being Sorry,” Enrique Iglesias**

“No, Lily,” James said as they entered their home in Godric’s Hollow. “What you suggest is madness.”

“No, just listen,” she said, talking with her arms. Her hair appeared a muddled brown in the darkness, not its usual auburn. “I found a charm. They wouldn’t even know.”

He grabbed her arm. “Who cares if they don’t know?” he demanded. “We would know.”

“The child would be ours,” Lily countered. “Ours, James. You can’t give me children. What other choice do we have? There is no such thing as wizarding adoption as children go to relatives—and I refuse to sleep with another wizard just to get pregnant.”

“Lils, I know I’m a disappointment,” James began, but she took his face in her hands and kissed him.

“Not a disappointment. Never that,” she swore. “It’s just—what they’re doing is heinous, James. You know it is. They couldn’t even be married under magic, even dark magic. They had to go to a Muggle priest.”

“He’s my best mate.”

“Not really,” she argued. “I was at Hogwarts with the both of you. You were best mates in Gryffindor, but outside of our House, he was always with her. They were inseparable. You were always complaining about it. ‘Sirius this—Sirius that—‘ And then he goes and does this. It must sicken you on some level, especially as a pureblood.”

“I’m a pureblood who married a Muggle-born,” James reminded her. He moved away from her, toward the kitchen, where he leaned up against the kitchen table where they ate. “We both broke the rules.”

“Not of Mother Magic herself,” Lily argued again. “James, why can’t you see it? The child’s going to be a bastard, worse than a house elf. We’d be saving it from that fate, give it the Potter name. True, it won’t be a Black and in direct line for the title of Lord Black, but that couldn’t happen anyway, what with the abomination Sirius stepped into.”

James laughed hollowly. “We don’t even know if the child would look like us. Look at her. She has violet eyes and blond curls. Sirius has black hair like me but gray eyes.”

“Your grandmother was a Black,” Lily stated, “and my sister Petunia has blonde hair. It’s plausible. Please, James. Give me this child. Have I ever really asked you for anything?”

“You’re asking me to betray my best friend in all the world.”

“I’m asking you to save his child,” Lily corrected, now standing beside him. “We’ll be giving him or her a better life.”

James sighed, as if defeated. “I’m going over in a few days. I’ll perform the charm then.”

“Oh, James!” Lily squealed, throwing herself into her husband’s arms. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Their lips met, long and slow, tongues twisting together with familiarity. When they pulled apart, Lily whispered, “We’re going to have a baby!”

“One caveat,” James stated. “If we take his child, we at least name Sirius godfather.”

She sighed. “It would look odd if we didn’t,” she agreed. Lily smiled at him, slow and seductive. “Take me upstairs, Mr. Potter.”

“Of course, my dear,” he said, swooping her up into his arms and carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A full chapter will be posted on Saturday. I hope you enjoyed the Interlude. Writing flashbacks is always fun! cen


	7. Part the Sixth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was pointed out to me that since I only gave you a brief interlude, some of my dear readers would need a chapter before Saturday ... so, here you are. We are back with Heir Lycoris and Sirius, Lord Black. I hope you enjoy one of my original characters who comes into play.

**Part the Sixth—**   
_“Drop a heart, Break a name / We’re always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team”_   
**—“Sugar, We’re Going Down,” Fall Out Boy**

The village was part Muggle, part Magical. As they walked through in robes, they garnered a few looks though not as many as they would have normally. “Don’t look at the statue,” Sirius advised as they passed through the center of the village, and Lycoris didn’t look.

He saw the pub and the kissing gate that led to graveyard.

“May I see?” he asked.

“Of course,” Sirius answered, and they walked to the graves. 

Lycoris felt nothing. There were freshly strewn flowers and Lycoris said, in a cold voice, “Curse them dead.”

They passed the cottage where Lycoris had spent part of his life as Harry Potter. He didn’t remember it and he could see where part of it had collapsed. “I almost wish they had survived so I wouldn’t have had to have gone to the Dursleys,” he whispered. “I wonder what I would have been like. You would have been my godfather.”

“I probably would have pranked you,” Sirius answered. “Come, we’re just up the lane here.” They drew closer and Sirius warned, “She’s a bit old for an unmarried witch. I think she’s just over twenty.”

“I don’t mind,” Lycoris remarked. “Why should I mind? I don’t want a stepmother too close my age. I just don’t want her trying to run my life.”

“I’m sure something can be arranged,” Sirius placated. “Ah, here we are now.”

The house was three-stories with gabled windows and flowerbeds in the front. The thatched roof was rather charming and there was a blue door. Sirius cluncked the knocker three times. A middle-aged witch, with what looked like a doily on her head, opened the door and ushered them in.

“Lord Black, how wonderful it is to see you. Who might this be?”

“Mrs. Sweetings, this is my son, Heir Lycoris. He wanted to meet Florence.”

The witch looked happily flustered. “But of course. Florence is just now writing letters to some old school friends. I’m sure she will not mind the interruption.” She showed them into a small room with a desk where a witch with blue eyes and silky brown hair twirled on the top of her head was sitting at a writing desk. She looked up and smiled while clearly ending the sentence.

“Sirius,” she greeted, standing up and offering him her hand. “I was hoping you’d come this week. Who is your companion? Surely he must be a Black?”

“My son, Heir Lycoris.”

She curtseyed to him. “Heir Lycoris, it is an honor to finally meet you. I’ve heard much about you from your father.” She smiled sweetly at him.

Lycoris held out a box of unicorn milk chocolates. “I hope you enjoy these.”

Taking the box, she opened it and smelled the chocolates. “I’ve never had any before,” she admitted. “Mother, can you get us some milk and we can all enjoy them?”

Her mother left the room and reappeared with three glasses of milk. They each took one and Florence passed around the chocolates.

“Really, Flo,” Sirius said, “this isn’t necessary.”

“But I want to share in my good fortune. I assure you Mother will have some later.”

Lycoris had had unicorn milk chocolate before. It was one of Draco’s favorites so he always was sure to get it for him for his birthday and Yule, much to his cousin’s delight. He’d rarely had it himself, but always enjoyed it when he did.

“So,” he began, “how long have you known my father?”

“Since February,” she answered. “He looked rather cold and miserable so he fortunately suggested going to the local pub where we both got nice and warm.” She smiled at Sirius.

“Wasn’t it rather odd that you were in a graveyard?”

“Not at all. My father had recently passed so I was visiting his grave. It’s usually very quiet there, with few visitors. Your father has been one of the few exceptions.”

Lycoris nodded, trying to process all of this.

“How do you feel about dark magic?”

Sirius coughed rather harshly. Florence looked at him with concern before turning to Lycoris. “Officially, I believe that it is dangerous. Unofficially, well…” She glanced at her mother and leaned it. “I believe magic is magic, Heir Lycoris.”

For the first time that visit, he smiled at her.

“So, do I have your permission to pop the question?” Sirius asked as they left the house. 

“I—is it that serious?”

“Yes. We can be married over Yule so you can be best man and one of her sisters can be matron of honor.”

“You’re going to have to get rid of the Order, you know that, don’t you? It won’t be right to bring her into a house run by Mrs. Weasley when she should have her own establishment. I don’t think it’s right that you make me live under that horrible blood traitor.”

“Hey,” Sirius said, taking him by the arm and turning him. “I will not tolerate such language.”

“They are blood traitors, though,” Lycoris argued, “the lot of them. Ask anyone. They neglect our traditions, dress like common Muggles. It’s ridiculous and they’re running about our house along with Dumbledore!”

“Fine, I’ll kick them out as soon as she agrees. I need her at Grimmauld Place to start redecorating anyway.”

“Good.” Lycoris nodded. “Go back and ask tomorrow. You can go to Gringotts today and pick out a ring.”

“You’re not in a hurry to see anyone go,” Sirius added sarcastically.

“No, I’m certainly not.”

…

They were in the Black vault. Lycoris had convinced Sirius to invite Draco and Aunt Narcissa (for a woman’s opinion) to pick out the ring. They were looking at several trays of them.

“No,” Narcissa said, dismissing an entire tray. “I take it she’s feminine and those are a little—overdone. From what Lycoris has said, she is as strong but physically small boned.”

“Coris said that?” Sirius said in surprise.

“She interrogated me over breakfast!” Lycoris defended. “Plus, she needs to know. She doesn’t even know Miss Sweetings.”

Sirius deflated a bit.

“Now, brown hair and blue eyes.” This was Draco. “I think we want platinum or silver.”

“Yes,” Lycoris agreed. He pointed to another tray. “These are right out.”

“Jewel or no jewel?” Narcissa then asked. “Cousin Sirius?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” He looked utterly lost.

“Jewel, then,” Narcissa said. “Women like pretty jewels that catch the light. Let’s see, a sapphire to match her eyes.” She looked over the rings, her hand hovering between two, before she picked up the second. It was a rather large sapphire with the Black crest of a crow’s head in silver in the center of it. “This should make all of her friends jealous.”

“Won’t they already be jealous if she’s marrying a Lord?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Narcissa said. “However, a physical reminder never hurts.” She handed the ring to Sirius. “Does this meet with your approval?”

He looked at it from several angles before passing it to Lycoris who nodded. “Yes,” Sirius said. “I think we’re in agreement.”

“May the future Lady Black wear it with honor,” Narcissa intoned and Draco smiled at Lycoris.

…

Everyone was packed and gone by the end of the week, as Sirius had proposed to an ecstatic Florence who absolutely adored her ring, and Grimmauld Place was eerily quiet. Sirius had a curse breaker brought in to break the Fidelius Charm on the house, and Lycoris just watched him with veiled interest. Florence came soon after that with a handful of patterns and started pinning them to the walls with Kreacher’s help.

“It’s brilliant!” Draco declared as they stood in the living room. “I think this room would look wonderful in golds and yellows, just like she’s thinking.”

“It’s better than the dire state it’s in now,” Lycoris agreed.

“You don’t like it?” Draco asked perceptively.

“It’s not home,” Lycoris admitted. “I’ll be glad to have her here, though. I’m used to the hustle and bustle of all of Sirius’s blasted friends.”

They shared a dark look.

“The Dark Lord was asking after you the other day at tea,” Draco put in after a long silence. “One would think he’s besotted.”

Lycoris’s head whipped round. He hadn’t told Draco. “Why would you say that?”

Draco smirked. “Did you honestly think you could keep it a secret from me? When you met the Dark Lord, you described him as ‘beautiful,’ then he asks to see you alone, there’s another meeting, and he asks specifically about you. He never even asks after his own followers! Are you lovers?”

“Yes—not yet. We’re waiting.”

His cousin whistled. “You’re making the Dark Lord wait. You’re a brave one.”

“Would you like to have sex at this age? My hormones haven’t had time to catch up to the situation.”

“No,” Draco said honestly. “I suppose I wouldn’t. We are rather young for our year at Hogwarts.” Draco had been born in June and Lycoris, supposedly, at the end of July. The Malfoys had changed his official birthday to July fourteenth, to keep people from guessing his former identity. As one they turned to the tapestry to look at the mysterious child of Regulus Black, whose birthday was listed as 1979. “Still,” Draco said, clearing his throat, “I would contact him. Any day when Uncle Sirius will be out?”

“He’s having a private dinner with Flo in London next week.”

“Perfect. Send the owl. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

Marvolo had agreed to come within a few hours of receiving the owl. Lycoris was in a dither what to wear. “Purple,” he decided, rummaging in his closet. Samhain had strangely decided to hide there for the evening.

Lycoris had Kreacher preparing a dinner of Cornish Game Hen. He shuddered his eyes to the appropriate color and then waited in the basement for Marvolo to arrive by floo.

When he swirled in the flames, he unfolded himself from the fire. He was wearing his typical black robes, his brown-red eyes shining. He instantly came up to Lycoris and kissed him sweetly. “Coris,” he breathed.

“Marvolo,” he answered. “Would—would you like to see what Flo is doing with the place?” he asked nervously. “She’s really putting her stamp down as the future Lady Black.”

“If it pleases you,” Marvolo answered.

“This table will be replaced with something more in vogue,” Lycoris told him. “She hasn’t decided what though. She thinks, however, that it’s much too masculine. Oh, and Grandmother Walburga approves of her. I’ve made Father promise not to remove the picture of Mother from his desk, though. Sentimental of me, I know, but I can’t help it. She was my mother. I think.” He was rambling now. This was not a good sign.

“Breathe, darling,” Marvolo said, taking him by the arms.

Lycoris sucked in a breath through his nose and tried to calm down.

“Perhaps we should sit,” Marvolo suggested. “You can show me the house later, if we have time.”

“Yes. Sitting. Good.” He sat and wrung his hands together.

Marvolo placed his own over them. “Why are you so nervous?”

“We’re lovers. I don’t want to mess this up,” he answered honestly, his purple eyes seeking out Marvolo’s. “I’m sure you have dozens of offers.”

“But I don’t want any of them,” Marvolo assured him. “I want you.” He reached out and brushed Lycoris’s hair out of his face. “You are my equal in every way. You survived my curse. It takes a great wizard, even in infancy, to defy such magic.”

“Accidental magic, nothing more,” Lycoris whispered.

“Perhaps,” Marvolo agreed, “but powerful and effective nonetheless. Narcissa said you wanted to be a Magical Medical Researcher.”

“I changed my mind,” Lycoris admitted. “It’s even less glamorous.”

“Then enlighten me. I want to aid you in your hopes and dreams for the future.” He looked honest and Lycoris felt himself sucking in another breath.

“I haven’t even told Father yet. I’m afraid of what he might say.”

“Then practice on me,” Marvolo suggested. “Come,” he said, trying to meet Lycoris’s gaze. “I will not laugh at you.”

Lycoris mumbled something.

“I did not hear you,” Marvolo admitted.

Lycoris took in a deep breath. “I want to be a corpsier.”

“You want to find the cause of death in dead cadavers?” Marvolo asked in surprise. “That’s a profession you rarely hear talked about. What draws you to it, if I may ask?”

Lycoris concentrated and his scar appeared.

Marvolo sucked in a breath. “You want to find the meaning behind that scar. Research, then.” He reached out tentatively and traced the horrible scar. Then, hesitantly, he moved forward and kissed it. “I rue the day I gave you that, darling. I was fed false information.”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“I was told that a child would be born that would have the power to kill me. It was given in the form of a prophecy. However, you were not conceived of entirely Light origins. You are not that child.”

Lycoris reached out and tugged Marvolo’s hands. “Have you found the child?”

“The only possible child is Neville Longbottom and from the reports I hear he is not much of a wizard.”

“No. His potions work is abysmal,” Lycoris agreed. “Perhaps because you chose wrong, the prophecy is void? Have you researched the subject?”

“No,” he admitted. “Perhaps it will be a worthwhile summer project for young Draco. He has shown himself eager to prove himself. I will not mark him until he has graduated Hogwarts, but he can certainly make himself useful.”

“He knows about us,” Lycoris confessed. “He guessed, and I saw no reason for denying it. He is my brother, after all. I did not wish to hide such a large part of my life from him.” He looked pleadingly at Marvolo, begging him to understand, and sucked in a breath when he was reminded just how beautiful the other man was.

“I will not say that I am not displeased,” Marvolo stated calmly, his hand back in Lycoris’s hair. “However, I can understand the bond. It must be strong. You had nothing before you came to the Malfoys.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And now a father and a place in society. A new mother, too. You are most fortunate.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“Perhaps just a little.” And Marvolo leaned in to kiss him and Lycoris climbed into his arms, feeling the hard chest against his own, pulling Marvolo’s face closer with his hair. 

Only the arrival of dinner broke them apart.

…

“Something’s different about you,” Sirius remarked the day before Lycoris was set to go back to Hogwarts. “I’ve been noticing it all summer. You’ve come into yourself.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Lycoris was a little afraid his father would be too perceptive. He had asked about lovers earlier in the summer, after all.

“No. You’re just so young. You should be enjoying life, courting girls. Maybe date a half-blood.”

“You have to be joking.”

“Far from it,” Sirius stretched. They were sitting at the kitchen table and Lycoris just looked at him incredulously. 

“I wouldn’t touch a half-blood with a ten-foot pole. Their blood is dirty.—And don’t tell me that deep down you don’t feel the same way. You went after Flo. She’s a pureblood.”

“Flo was a happy coincidence,” Sirius argued.

“I will not have this house be made a laughing stock in pureblood society,” Lycoris declared darkly. “All of my children will be purebloods.”

“If that’s how you feel,” Sirius began warily. “You know, I won’t bring up any future children with these ideals.”

Lycoris looked at him. Hard. “Yes, you will. You love your House. Don’t deny it. You hate your mother, you hate your family, but you love the Black name. Why else would you have taken me in when I clearly am a bastard?”

Sirius stood from the table, his hands on the uneven wood. “Never say that about yourself, Lycoris. Never! You’re my son. You’re loved. You’re wanted. I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re mine or Regulus’s, that’s true, but you are my son in every way that matters. The tapestry even says it! And I will not have this type of talk in front of Flo. She’s sweet natured and gentle, but if so much of a whisper of your suspicion got out, she could challenge your right to the inheritance, and I will not have it, Lycoris, I will not have it!” He slammed his fist on the table for emphasis.

“Why do you care?” Lycoris asked in a small voice. “You’re starting your own family now.”

Sirius sighed and sat back down. “When I was in Azkaban, Lucius came to see me. He brought me a picture of you and Draco, and in you I saw hope for the future. I saw a smiling boy who could be mine. I was not a saint before the war. Far from it. But that name on your arm. Lycoris Rosier Black proves you’re a pureblood, not some fling with some half-blood, Muggle, or Muggleborn. I must have been married. It’s the only explanation. And I remember that name. Regulus was long dead by the time of your conception. The only other Blacks are women.”

“I wish Mother were here,” Lycoris said softly. “I like Flo, I really do, but I’ve always wanted a mother.”

“I know, Coris, but hopefully Flo can be a confidante, an older sister if you will. She’s fond of you. In fact, over dinner, she wouldn’t stop talking about what a gentleman you were and what a credit you were to our House.”

“She doesn’t mind being a second wife?”

“I think she knows with a man my age, it’s a distinct possibility,” Sirius stated. “I made no secret of it, even from the beginning. She knew what she was getting herself into.”

Lycoris nodded. “I think I’d like a lover,” he said after a pause.

“I’ll flay him alive without magic if he hurts you,” Sirius said darkly. “It is your right. Just be careful, all right? Choose wisely.”

“Don’t worry. He’ll be from an upstanding house.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Sirius growled.

Lycoris grinned back cheekily at his father.

Draco was pleased to see him on the platform and Lucius had even given him a hug, despite his formal demeanor. “This is for you,” he stated, handing him a package. “It’s from our mutual friend.”

Lycoris took it gently and smiled. “He could have sent it by owl.”

“He thought it a little fragile,” Lucius explained. “He’s sorry he could not see you off himself.”

“I hadn’t expected him to,” Lycoris responded. “That would have been—well—imprudent.”

“Yes, very imprudent.” Lucius smiled down at him and ran a hand through his hair. The two looked barely anything alike, and yet still Lycoris knew Lucius saw him as a second son. 

Of course, Hermione Granger noticed the package when he entered the Prefect Compartment. “What’s that?”

“A gift,” he responded.

“Well, let’s see it then.”

“Hardly,” he responded coldly. “I think I’ll wait.”

She looked like she was about to object but fortunately the Head Boy and Head Girl walked in.

Lycoris and Draco requested rounds together, and as they were cousins and heirs to two powerful houses, their request was granted. When they walked along, package in hand, Harry ducked into a compartment, Draco not far behind him. Samhain was at his feet.

“I’m dying to see what he got you,” Draco admitted. “This is the first courtship gift.”

“We’re not courting. We’re lovers,” Lycoris refuted.

“That doesn’t mean that he won’t woo you,” Draco objected. “He’s a powerful wizard, possibly the most powerful wizard in Britain. It would be only right that he would wish to win your heart.”

“Win my heart? We’ve never spoken about hearts.”

“The Dark Lord always plays the long game,” Draco informed. “He’s playing for your heart. Now, open the package.”

It was long and thin and wrapped up in unassuming brown paper. Lycoris opened it up to find a box, a card inside fluttering to the floor.

Draco picked it up. “For your future endeavors.—M. Is that what his name begins with? M?”

“Hmm,” Lycoris agreed, unwrapping the tissue paper. His breath caught in his throat when he saw what lay inside. 

“Are those?”

“Yes,” Lycoris breathed. Perfectly preserved was a magical stethoscope that could be used on a dead body to detect magical residue. It was made completely of wizard glass, pliant and yet unbreakable.

“How many of those actually exist?”

“Half a dozen?” Lycoris guessed. “I—I should write him. May I borrow your owl tonight?”

“Of course. I’ll send Proserpine to Ravenclaw Tower after the feast,” Draco promised. “Come, we must put these safely in your trunk. We’ll ward it so Granger doesn’t snoop.”

“Granger,” Lycoris sighed. “How I hate that Mudblood.”

“You have just cause. Come, we need to get back to our rounds.” Draco put a hand lightly on his arm, and Lycoris looked up, knowing this was the truth of it.

Rosa Vane was in their compartment when they showed up. Her face brightened when she saw Lycoris. “On your rounds?” she asked. “I thought I’d keep your trunks company in case there were any unwanted visitors.” Granger—was the unspoken ‘visitor.’

“Mighty civil of you, Vane,” Draco said as Lycoris opened up his trunk. “Don’t let Granger in if she comes by.”

She snorted elegantly. “As if I would. She got my spot as Prefect after all.” She sniffed. “Heir Lycoris, I need to speak with you later, once you’re free. It’s about that conversation you had with my father.”

Lycoris sighed. He knew this was coming.

It turned out that Rosa was less than pleased. “What were you thinking?” she asked coolly from her seat. “You should have shown your hand when actual marriage negotiations were taking place.”

“It’s a moot point now,” he stated. “I told Mr. Vane that if he didn’t make you Mistress Vane, then I would never consider you for my future Lady Black. He made the decision; I did not.” Lycoris knew his voice was hard, but it was the truth. He honestly didn’t know if he could ever marry Rosa, but the possibility was impossible now.

“But why would you say such a thing? I don’t understand!”

Lycoris breathed through his nose. “Honestly, my boyfriend asked me to—before he was my boyfriend. He’s concerned with the purity of houses.”

She looked like she’d been slapped. “So that’s it, then? We’re over?”

“We’d never begun. We were study partners.”

“But I thought—“ She shook her head. “Never mind what I thought. It doesn’t signify. This is all just one royal mess.” She choked back a sob. “Do you realize I’ve lost everything?”

“You’re still Miss Rosa,” he argued.

“But I’ve lost you,” she whispered. “All I wanted was you.”

“It would have been an empty relationship,” he insisted. “You’re wonderful and bright—“

“But you just don’t lean that way,” she concluded. “Tell me, what’s he like? This boyfriend of yours?”

“Tall,” Lycoris answered honestly. “He’s a Slytherin, but graduated. He treats me well.”

“And that’s what you need after those Muggles. You deserve to be treasured,” she concluded. “Does Lord Black know?”

“No. It would kill him. He knows I want a lover, but that’s all.”

She nodded and stood. “Well, I have October until there’s a Hogsmeade weekend. Perhaps I can find someone to take me by then.” With a swish of robes, she was gone.

Draco slid into the compartment. “How did it go?”

“As well as expected. She was upset.”

“She was bound to be. She just lost Heir Lycoris Black!” He paused. “Are you sure you won’t pursue her, in the future? For an heir?”

“I’m certain,” Lycoris refuted. “I think I’m sentimental. When I have children, it will be out of love. I don’t think I could ever love Rosa—she doesn’t challenge me.”

“Not like the Dark Lord.”

“No, not like he does.” He sighed wistfully. “Sometimes I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into. It’s early days yet, but still, so much has happened. I shouldn’t know what it’s like to be kissed until I’m betrothed, and now I find myself in the Dark Lord’s arms. I must keep the relationship a secret from my own father—“

“Father knows,” Draco murmured. “I know Lord Black was always an ideal for you, growing up, but my father was your father for three long years. Surely that counts for something?”

“It does,” Lycoris agreed, sitting down across from Draco. Samhain came up into his lap and he petted her absent-mindedly. “Uncle Lucius understands me far better than Father. Still, I don’t like to keep secrets from him.”

“No, I suppose not, Draco agreed. “I can’t imagine having a lover.”

“That’s because you fancy a witch,” Lycoris responded. “It’s different when you fancy a wizard. The rules are suddenly gone. Etiquette and decorum go out the window. There’s just you—and him—and the feeling between you. I don’t even know what I feel. I just want him to want me. It’s ridiculous. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“No,” Draco argued. “That’s not ridiculous at all.”


	8. Part the Seventh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that this gets rid of the notion that Hermione is Regulus's daughter. There were never meant to be TWO stolen children in this fic.

**Part the Seventh—**   
_“Eyes burning a way through me / Overwhelm, destroying so sweetly”_   
**—“This Fire,” Franz Ferdinand**

Lycoris was in the library with Draco and Lacerta. She was never one for studying. She kept her marks up—she was a Malfoy, after all—but she was barely in the upper ten percent. Lycoris had tried to convince Lacerta to study with her yearmates but she was having difficulty with a Charms essay so he and Draco had allowed her to sit with them.

He remembered the essay well. It was rather a tricky one.

A shadow fell over the table. “Is this seat taken?” Rosa asked, her hair in a mass of curls that were pinned up neatly on her head.

Draco and Lycoris looked at each other, a silent message passing between them.

“This is a family affair,” Lycoris finally stated. “We’re helping Lacy with an essay.”

“I won’t get in the way,” she promised. “It’s just—you know how I don’t quite get on with my house mates.”

That was true. She didn’t. There was Lavender Brown, who was obsessed with divination to the point of absurdity, Parvati Patil, who loved Witch Weekly far too much, and Hermione Granger. Enough said.

“Miss Rosa,” Draco said quietly. “I don’t think Heir Lycoris’s boyfriend would appreciate it.”

Her eyes went wide. “Yes. Of course. How silly of me.” She looked about the tables. Lycoris noticed that her eyes landed on a table with a single occupant, Head Boy Roger Davies.

“He’s single,” Lycoris put in. “And he seems to be looking at you.”

She glanced over. “He does, doesn’t he?—No time like the present.” She gave them a parting smile and then walked over to him.

Draco smiled at Lycoris. “Playing matchmaker, are we?”

“Just helping things along,” Lycoris admitted. “Couldn’t hurt to get her off my tail.”

Lacerta turned the page in her book. “Wait, if you make a jagged movement, it’s this spell we learn in chapter thirteen!” she explained happily. She had just figured out the problem.

…

Hermione waited beneath the moving staircase, knowing that the Ravenclaws would be coming down it at any moment. Her hand flitted about her hair nervously. She knew it was stupid, but she had straightened it that morning. She had woken up before all the other girls in the dorm just to do it.

Purebloods, for whatever reason, put it up. She’d seen Rosa and Parvati do it every morning, but she wasn’t going to change herself. No, she was just going to present herself in her best light.

“Black!” she called, when she saw him, and he turned. She remembered how when he came to Hogwarts he had long hair down to his shoulders, but had since shortened it until it hung long around his chin. His hair was different from the other boys at Hogwarts who all had it clipped around their ears, including his horrible cousin Malfoy. She didn’t really understand it. She’d tried asking Sirius about it once, though, and he had just laughed. Lycoris’s hair was still as curly, though.

She liked that.

When they were studying Arithmancy together over the summer, she imagined running her hand through it. She thought it must be soft to the touch and that her fingers must get caught on the ends. How wonderful would that be?

“How many times must I tell you, Granger, to call me Heir Lycoris?” he sighed, holding his satchel. His gray eyes looked at her and she looked fearlessly back.

She pushed back her fringe. “We’re at Hogwarts, Black. We’re equals. I don’t care what that ring on your finger says.” Not really. Well, a little…

He clenched his teeth. “Just because you may have been welcomed, for whatever unknown reason, at my father’s house over the summer, does not mean that I have to put up with this Muggleborn nonsense.”

Turning to move away, he was stopped when she grabbed his hand. “Look, I know you wanted Vane to be prefect, and now that I am instead, you have broken up with her.”

“I was study partners with her, Granger, that was all. Can I go to lunch now?”

“No. Not quite. I just—we’re intellectual equals, Black.” He reared back, but she continued. “We’re both prefects, and let’s not kid ourselves, we’ll probably be Head Boy and Head Girl. Maybe we can be—closer friends?” She moved up to him. “Go to Hogsmeade together? Get to know each other better?”

He pushed her away. “Granger, I have a boyfriend.”

She was about to refute the statement, it seemed so preposterous, but then she asked quietly, “You have a boyfriend?”

Breathing in through his nose, he looked at her. “Yes, so please kindly leave me alone. We don’t partner in class and we rarely have rounds together. It should be easy enough to do.”

“But, Lycoris, I—“

“Heir Lycoris, and I, what?” he asked harshly. “Do you want me to just come out and say it?”

She looked at him blankly. In a nervous gesture, she brushed her straight hair behind one of her ears, but it was so fine, it quickly fell back again.

“I hate Muggles and everything that they’ve touched including Muggle-borns and some half-bloods. I don’t think you’re fit to breathe the air Mother Magic gave you. Now—get away from me and stay away.”

“But Sirius Black—“

“Unfortunately, he lost me and Muggles got me instead,” he responded icily. “Lying, cheating Muggles who would rather starve a child to death than allow it to believe in magic.”

Hermione looked at him hopefully. “Not all Muggles are like that, Black.”

“Really?” he asked skeptically. “I find that hard to believe.”

He turned to leave, but she followed him, dogging his steps. “You’ve seen me. You’ve seen my parents. They love me, Lycoris. All of me. They love my magic. And they don’t love Elissa any less just because she’s a Muggle—she’s special in her own way.”

“Well, la dee da,” he spit back. “Don’t you have just a perfect little life? Go after some other pureblood to validate you—because that’s what this is, isn’t it?”

She stopped dead, biting her lip. It was true, after all, on a deep level. The purebloods made her feel small and insignificant, no matter how well she did at school. And even that didn’t matter. Lycoris was always better at it than she was.

“I thought so,” he whispered. “Be happy with what you’ve got. Don’t force yourself onto others, Granger; it’s unseemly.”

“Unseemly? What’s unseemly is how you hate me just because I’m not like you.”

“I would think that would be reason enough to stay away from me,” he muttered. “I’m willing to work with you as prefect. If we do make Head Boy and Head Girl, then of course we’ll make a success of it. Nothing else will do. But that is where the association ends. Hopefully I won’t have to put up with you as a study partner next year now that I’ll have a new stepmother.”

He made to move forward, but Hermione followed after him again. “Tell me about her. Sirius barely said a word.”

“She’s wonderful. A pureblood. She’s not trying to replace my mother.”

He walked away from her, and she just stood there with her hands balled into fists, trying not to cry. That had not gone to plan, at all.

…

Lycoris fumed. Trust Granger to corner him like that. He made his way up to the Governors’ Offices and to his Uncle Lucius’s in particular. Fortunately, Uncle Lucius had had a dark smith in Knockturn Alley make copies of his supposedly singular key for both him and Draco last year so that they could always get in. There was a floo there and he’d be able to reach Malfoy Manor.

“Lycoris,” Lucius greeted as he stood in the room. “Don’t you have rounds?”

“Not for an hour,” he admitted. “It’s just—the Mudblood. I can’t have her made Head Girl.”

“None of us want that,” Lucius admitted. “However, how can we stop her? She’s a prefect. She’s second only to you in her studies. If she gets the marks, she gets the marks.”

“Can’t there be—a scandal?”

Lucius looked at him hard. “Wait a moment.” He went out the floo and then Marvolo appeared in all his glory. 

“Your eyes,” he reminded, and Lycoris smiled despite himself. He slicked them lavender and Marvolo grinned, coming over to kiss him gently. Oh, how he made Lycoris’s heart sing. “You want a scandal?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “Something the Mudblood Granger can’t recover from.”

Marvolo and Lucius exchanged looks. “What’s in her file?”

Lucius went to a magical filing cabinet and opened up a folder. “One younger sister, born in August of 1980, attending Harrow on scholarship.” He opened his mouth to say more, but Marvolo interrupted him.

“That’s the ‘in’,” Marvolo declared. “It wouldn’t be difficult for a resourceful young witch to come across a dark athame. She could have been cutting her sister with dark magic for years without her parents’ knowledge.”

“We could send a letter from Harrow, in this sister’s handwriting, that is easy enough to fake, to the Ministry.”

“They will send Aurors to investigate and her memories will already be altered enough to show that Miss Granger was the one all along who did it.”

“The Mudblood will be expelled,” Lucius concluded. “Are you sure this is what you want, Lycoris? The only type of scandal to stick would be a full on onslaught like this. She’ll go to prison.”

Lycoris sat down in one of the armchairs and thought. Marvolo was across from him. He took his hand and played with Lycoris’s fingers, the touch warming the skin. “You still are neutral,” he assured. “I do this for Lycoris, my lover, not for a potential follower or the son of a Dark Family.”

He smiled slightly. “Thank you for that, Marvolo. And yes,” he stated firmly. “I want this done.”

Marvolo smiled at him. It was full of sinister promise and unbridled joy. “Expect it done by the end of the week.”

Lycoris did not get a copy of The Daily Prophet. Draco, however, did. On Friday, the humming began and Draco ran over from Slytherin table and plopped the paper down in Lycoris’s eggs. There, in large frame, was a photograph of Hermione and her family, Elissa sitting in front with a tentative smile on her face. 

Lycoris scanned the article quickly. The abuse had been happening since Granger’s first summer home from Hogwarts, according to the article.

“Can you believe it?” Draco asked. “You’ve been to her house! Did you see any signs?”

“The girl was quiet,” Lycoris answered. “She didn’t even say ‘hello’. I thought she was just being a Muggle, but perhaps—“

The two cousins looked at each other knowingly. Lycoris had confided everything to Draco, who had approved of the situation wholeheartedly. Lacerta hadn’t been told as she was a little too young and Io hadn’t even entered Hogwarts. They were to take the scandal at face value.

A scream went up from the Gryffindor table. “I didn’t! I didn’t! I swear I didn’t!” Granger was standing with tears streaming down her face, her bushy hair a halo around her ravaged visage, and Draco and Lycoris looked on with the rest of the Great Hall. 

Dumbledore, at this point, looking up from his Daily Prophet, stood and slammed his hands on the table a shouted, “Silence!”

The hall fell quiet, everyone turning their attention from the sobbing Granger to the Headmaster, who was now speaking to Professor McGonagall in low tones. She nodded a few times before patting her mouth with a napkin and going to Miss Granger and leading her out of the hall.

Dumbledore, however, had a few words to say. “I would like you to remember that these are accusations and accusations only. Until the Department of Magical Law Enforcement substantiates them and Miss Granger receives a fair trial, we know nothing but speculation.”

Draco slammed his hand against the Ravenclaw table. “And where was my cousin, Lord Black’s trial fourteen years ago?” he demanded. “Where was justice then?”

“I cannot answer you, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said tiredly. “I believe such matters have been brought up to the Head of the DMLE already.” He sat back down heavily and stared at his porridge morosely.

“Thank you, Draco,” Lycoris whispered and clasped his hand in thanks. 

“Anything for my brother,” Draco admitted. “It’s not every day you find one in a robes shop, now, is it?”

Lycoris laughed. “No, not every day. I keep on going in and expect to find another Malfoy.”

“Now, that would be interesting. Our merry band of four would just keep on growing!”

“Well, there is that Lady of the House of Black on the tapestry,” Lycoris reminded him. “Uncle Regulus’s daughter.” They smiled at each other. It was their own little mystery.

“What on earth are you two on about?” Terry Boot asked, tearing his eyes away from the paper.

“Oh, nothing,” Lycoris admitted. “You know I’m a stolen child. We found each other by accident in Madam Malkin’s. Now, I rarely say this, but poor—“ he made a show of looking at the paper—“Elissa Granger. No one deserves a dark athame. They have all sorts of curses on them that no one can trace. She’s probably infected for the rest of her life.”

“Oh no,” Draco said in actual worry. “Lacerta’s crying. I better go.” He rushed off without his paper. 

Lycoris picked it up. This was wonderful handiwork indeed.

…

Hermione sat huddled in a corner, utterly baffled and confused. She had been stunned to see her picture in the paper. It had been taken just last year. Her parents were fond of taking family portraits every year or so. They said that in their old age they wanted to remember how she and Elissa had grown up.

They were around the living room in order. On the far left of the mantle was the first. She was barely one year old and Elissa was just a baby. Hermione had been born in September and Elissa the following August, making them the same school year. It had been hard growing up, being the older sister and yet not.

Then there was the next picture when they were about three—then five—then onward until just before she went off to Hogwarts. She was in her school uniform as was Elissa in hers for Harrow. That was Hermione’s favorite.

They were originally both supposed to go to Harrow. They were top of their class in primer and had gotten scholarships there, but Hermione had decided to go to Hogwarts instead.

Now she was facing gaol time. It was only too horrible.

Professor McGonagall came over with a cup of tea. “I put some calming draught in it, dearie,” she confessed. “That should help a bit.”

“I didn’t do it,” she reiterated. “I would never hurt Elissa. She’s my sister.”

“Of course, dear. The DMLE will be here soon and it will be all sorted out.”

Hermione squeaked. “I’ve never been in trouble with the law.”

“And you’re not,” Professor McGonagall reiterated. “At least not yet.” Her stern face seemed even sterner, but she had taken off her witch’s hat. She seemed oddly smaller without it, her hair in a severe bun drawing back her forehead so that there were no wrinkles readily apparent, unlike the rest of her face.

The floo activated not half an hour later and Tonks tripped out of the fire.

“Wotcher. Sorry it took so long. I had a quarrel with Amelia. Convinced her to send me with Kingsley, he’s coming along, since we know Hermione. Wotcher, Hermione.”

“Right. Of course,” McGonagall said. “Very sensible.”

The flames roared again. Kingsley stepped out of them. His bald head contrasted with Tonks’s bubblegum blue hair.

“We’re sorry this made it to the press before we could handle it,” he apologized. “We were planning on dealing with this quietly this morning and letting the evening edition have it, but someone leaked it to The Prophet. We still have no idea who.”

At this, Hermione seemed to gain back her strength. “But what happened? I never did any of this! Elissa would never say…” She broke down and started crying again. The teacup lay shattered on the floor.

“I would normally,” Professor McGonagall began, “suggest we take this to Professor Dumbledore’s office, but perhaps it would be best if we brought him down here. Nymphadora, if you could call him for us.”

“Yes, of course,” she said quietly, grabbing some floo powder.

Hermione didn’t even notice when he unfolded himself from the fireplace.

“Well,” he said softly. “What is the evidence?”

It was Kingsley who spoke. “There are clear athame cuts dating back for years. They’re tinged gray, the sort of tinsel gray only seen with dark magic. They’re on the upper arms and back. They’re clearly not self-inflicted.”

“I see. What else?”

“On searching Miss Granger’s premises, we found the athame. It had been wiped clean of marks, but it was in her closet, in a false floorboard with other childhood treasures.”

“No,” Hermione moaned. “No, no, no, no, no! No one knows of that place! How could they have put it there?”

Everyone ignored her.

It was McGonagall who spoke next. “How did you learn of the situation?”

“A letter in the post.” It was Tonks now. “It was addressed to the Prime Minister of Magic. It was sent from Harrow and in Miss Elissa Granger’s handwriting. She begged him to make it all stop. We first went to see her and checked her memories. The evidence is all there. They were not forged as far as our experts could tell.”

Hermione pushed her way from the chair and stumbled toward them. She grasped Tonks’ robes and looked directly into her dark eyes. “I. Didn’t. Do. It. Blame the Dark Lord! Blame Lycoris Black! He hates me! He’s wanted to get rid of me as prefect for over a year and has hated me longer!”

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said, “a simple schoolboy, no matter how clever, could never pull this off. Even with the help of his uncle, Lord Malfoy, it’s highly unlikely.”

“Highly unlikely?” she demanded. “This is my life!”

“Yes, this is your life, and I’m afraid you have to go with these aurors and into DMLE custody. I’m certain they will let you see your parents at some point.”

“They,” Tonks said carefully, “don’t want to see her. Not after everything.”

“What if I’m found innocent?”

“Then I’m sure that’s an entirely different matter,” Kingsley placated. “Come, Miss Granger.”

“No! I won’t go! You can’t make me!”

Kingsley sighed and pointed his wand at her. Before she could react, he whispered, “Petrificus Totalus!—Headmaster, Professor.” They picked her up and carried her through the floo.

It was horrifying, going through the falling motion, ashes batting against her eyelids without being able to shield herself. She fell with a thud in a marble hall and saw the saddened face of a woman looking back at her.

“Hermione Granger, I am the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You are hereby charged with the use of Dark Magic and torture of one Muggle, Elissa Granger. You have the right to remain silent, as everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”

She closed her eyes. Tears could not even escape them.

…

Rosa could not believe the news. It was all too strange. She hated Hermione Granger, of course. She wasn’t as much of a blood purist as Lycoris; it was true. She loved her brother Roland, and he was a half-blood, even though she wanted the title for herself. 

There were rumors, though, that her father was getting remarried again, this time to a Miss Silvia Jarvis. She was just out of Hogwarts, Rosa knew her by sight, and she was rather unassuming, but if she could give Rosa a pureblood biological brother to inherit the title—well, wouldn’t that be something? She wouldn’t be passed over. She loved Roland, she really did, but sometimes she felt like she played second fiddle to him, even though she was her father’s biological child and he was not.

She sat on her bed—it was free period—and read the article again. Rosa had never believed that Granger had been capable of such cruelty. Lycoris, perhaps and only the right circumstances. Malfoy, definitely. Granger? No. 

A knock came on the door. She looked up to see a timid first year. “Professor McGonagall wants to see you.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Class just ended and she asked me to find you,” the girl lisped.

“Well,” Rosa said, getting up. “We mustn’t keep her waiting then.” She wondered what it was all about, to be honest. Surely—? No, it was too soon to be made prefect.

Still, she swished her skirt on the way to McGonagall’s office in case anyone should see and then knocked on the door politely.

“Ah, yes, Vane.”

There it was, the coveted Prefect’s badge, waiting for her on the desk. 

“I won’t mince words. I should be congratulating you, but this is a nasty day. The Head Boy and Head Girl have been informed and will be contacting you.” She picked up the prefect badge, looked at it long and hard, and handed it over. “Work to deserve it, young lady. Evidently, its last bearer did not.”

“Of course, Professor,” she stated solemnly. “I will do my utmost.”

“Yes, well, now you and Black and Malfoy will be in cahoots again, I dare say. If you add a Hufflepuff to your crowd it will be the perfect case of interhouse cooperation.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” she promised, exiting the room. She turned the corner and immediately pressed her back against the wall breathing heavily. She looked down at the badge and a small smile flitted across her face.

“My, my,” a deep voice sounded, “the perfect Rosa Vane showing a moment of humanity when no one is looking.”

Rosa instantly shot up and saw Master Roger Davies resting against the corner. 

“I thought it would be you, but wanted to make sure. I had a free period and I thought I’d wait in case McGonagall called you in.”

“Yes, well,” Rosa was at a loss for words. “It seems all my hard work paid off in a roundabout way. I would have liked to have been made prefect outright, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“No,” he said, coming up to her. “I suppose they can’t.” 

He was impossibly tall and she looked into his shockingly blue eyes. She cleared her suddenly dry throat.

“Do I have rounds tonight?”

“Morven and I thought we’d be nice and give you a few days to settle in. It’s typical for prefects of the same house to have rounds together, so you’ll be with Dean Thomas. Do you know him well?”

“In passing,” she admitted. “I believe he likes to sketch.” She rather liked his drawings, whenever she saw them.

Roger hummed. “Anyway, if you’re free tonight, I can give you a crash course. Nothing too serious. It’s all pretty self-explanatory. It should only take an hour.”

“Yes,” she tried not to mumble. “Of course. I have nothing pressing.”

“Eight o’clock. Sharp. In the library. I’ll find a table far enough away from Madam Pince so we can talk a bit.” He took her hand and she lost her breath. He lifted it to beneath his lips, letting it hover an inch beneath them, and then let it go. “Miss Rosa.”

“Master Roger,” he whispered back.

Then he was gone. She slumped against the wall again with a silly smile on her face.


	9. Part the Eighth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a slight mix up of what chapter I was supposed to post ... my files are numbered differently than AO3 is numbering them, so many apologies for any confusion the past 20 minutes have caused.

**Part the Eighth—**  
_“Trying to keep it clear, but I’m losing it here / To the twilight / There’s a dead end to my left / There’s a burning bush to my right / You aren’t in sight”_  
**—“Standing Still,” Jewel**

Rosa was following him. It was rather dreadful. Lycoris pushed his fringe out of his gray eyes and breathed heavily. “Aren’t you meeting Davies?”

“At two o’clock,” she answered. “It’s not yet one thirty.”

One thirty, yes. He had just enough time to make it. Getting the key from the innkeeper, he made his way up the stairs. “It’s not that I’m not happy for you, Rosa, Master Roger is definitely a catch, but could we do this another time? It’s just that I’m meeting my boyfriend.”

She huffed. “I don’t believe you have a boyfriend.”

He paused and looked down at her. “And why would I lie about such a thing? I could easily remain aloof and mysterious if single.” Lycoris took off up the stairs and he heard her dainty shoes.

“You know everyone puts our names together. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t speak to me for about a month before the whole Granger crisis happened, it just—“

Lycoris tuned her out. He found the correct door and placed the key in the lock. “For heaven’s sake, woman!” he growled, but she didn’t seem to hear him. The door swung open and he saw Marvolo in a high backed chair. The lamplight created a sheen off of his brown hair, which made Lycoris want to run his hands through it, which wasn’t an unusual desire.

Marvolo looked up from The Prophet he was reading and smiled at him. “Your eyes, Coris. Your eyes.”

“I was followed,” he breathed, and Rosa promptly walked into the room. 

“Really, Lycoris. This is too much. Cloak and dagger, shall we?” She started when she saw Marvolo. “I’m sorry. We haven’t been introduced.”

“Miss Rosa Vane, I believe,” Marvolo said, standing and taking her hand. He lifted it up to just beneath his lips before releasing it. “If I am not misinformed you and Lycoris are prefects together.”

“We-we are. May I know who I have the honor of speaking to?”

“Lycoris?” Marvolo asked, his eyes never leaving Rosa’s. The sheer understated danger rolling off of him made Lycoris shiver. He was surprised Rosa couldn’t sense it.

“Right. Rosa, this is Lord Riddle, my boyfriend.”

“Lover,” Marvolo corrected. “Let’s call things as they are.”

Lycoris pinked and Rosa wasn’t quite certain where to look. “I’m sorry for doubting you, Lycoris,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll just leave you to your privacy.—But first, there are only four Lords!”

“Some Lordships,” Marvolo replied, “have fallen into disuse. There used to be more than four, and Riddle was one of them. I have, fortunately, inherited it and am now a Lord though not one of the Four.”

She pinked. “I’ll just go meet Master Davies,” she whispered. She closed the door behind her with a swish of her robes and Lycoris instantly threw himself in Marvolo’s arms, fusing their lips together.

“There now,” Marvolo whispered in between kisses. “I’m here now.”

“I’ve missed you,” Harry admitted. “So much.” He tightened his hold on Marvolo’s hair and just kissed him so hard that he could feel their teeth clink, but he frankly didn’t care. He wanted all of Marvolo. He knew he said he would wait, but he just couldn’t. “Now,” he begged. “I’m ready.”

“Eyes,” Marvolo demanded, stepping back although he kept a tight hold on Lycoris’s waist.

Shuddering his eyes, they turned purple and Marvolo looked into them. He sighed and traced a hand down Lycoris’s face. “My darling, you are not,” he tried to placate. “We shouldn’t rush into this.”

“Then hold me,” Lycoris begged. “Let’s forget about robes and your cravat, and there’s a bed, and just hold me.” The idea of skin on skin made his heart stutter and his breath catch, but Lycoris didn’t care. He just knew that he wanted this.

Marvolo surged forward and kissed Lycoris deeply. Again, Lycoris’s hands were in Marvolo’s hair but then he was pushing off the maroon robe and unknotting the cravat. Marvolo’s hands weren’t idle either. Lycoris was wearing a complicated leather robe that laced down the front to his trousers, before flaring out to his mid-calf. His long fingers pulled at the strings, and then he was pushing it from Lycoris’s shoulders and pulling the black t-shirt underneath over his head.

“I want to see you,” he begged as he looked at Lycoris, who was wearing nothing but his boots and his trousers. He ran a hand down his cheek. “I want to see your scar, your blond hair, I want to see you.”

“But this is who I am,” Lycoris argued. “I don’t want to be—that—ever again.”

“Then let me just see what the Muggles did to you,” he asked.

Lycoris came forward and unbuttoned his peasant top and shifted it from Marvolo’s strong shoulders.

“It is nothing worth mentioning,” Lycoris argued. “Please. This is about me and you and enjoying the short time we have together. This is not about fear and shame.”

Marvolo moved forward and clasped Lycoris’s face in his hands. “This is about trust and me loving you. Let me love you, Lycoris.”

“We’ve never spoken of love,” he admitted.

“Surely it has been understood.”

Lycoris laughed. “How could it be understood? You’re the Dark Lord! You’ve taken Muggle lovers. Did you love any of them? What if I was kept by the Dursleys”—he spat out the word—“and never went to Hogwarts? Would you have loved me then, Lord Voldemort? Would I have been worth it?”

He shuddered his eyes gray again and turned away, but Marvolo picked him up and carried him to the bed, laying him on top of the covers. When he crawled up beside him, he saw tears in Lycoris’s gray eyes, and his kissed his cheek softly. “I never meant to make you cry.”

“They’re just nightmares,” Lycoris explained. “Horrible nightmares. My life started when Draco found me in the robes shop.”

Running a hand through his hair, Marvolo kissed his smooth forehead. “I understand,” he murmured. “My life began the moment I stepped through the doors of Hogwarts.”

“Will you tell me about it?” Lycoris asked quietly.

“My father left my mother when he discovered she was a witch. She died giving birth to me.” He sighed. “I ended up in a Muggle orphanage where my only friends were the snakes that would come and find me in the night.”

“I can talk to snakes,” Lycoris admitted.

Marvolo looked up. “Do you have any Gaunt blood in you?”

Lycoris shrugged. “Not that I know of.—but you’re a half blood.” He then went silent, but he didn’t draw away from Marvolo. Instead, he began to draw circles along his ribcage. “Like I was supposed to be.”

“Yes,” Marvolo answered. “No one knows.”

For the longest time, Lycoris did not answer, but instead just lay in Marvolo’s arms. “I need to think,” he finally said. “Blood purity is—“

“Fundamental,” Marvolo supplied as he allowed Lycoris to push himself from his embrace and slide from the bed. He carefully went to his discarded clothes and pulled them on again. 

Marvolo followed him upward. He came to a little table beside the two chairs in the room and picked up a box. “At least take this, even if you’re angry. Know that it was given in affection.”

Laughing sadly, Lycoris took it and just stared for several moments. He glanced at Marvolo, his heart once again twinging at the very sight of him, begging him to go closer, to run a hand down his chest, but no, no, he could not do that. Lycoris carefully opened the box and breathed out.

“I know you only wear your hair to your chin,” Marvolo explained, “and Hogwarts does not allow hair ornamentation. However, when there comes a time at Grimmauld Place or elsewhere when you want to grow your hair longer, I thought this might suit.”

It was beautiful. Made out of gold—the perfect shade to compliment his naturally blond hair—was a metal thong. Imprinted on the curved surface was the Black sign of the crow.

“Draco was right. You are trying to woo me.”

Marvolo came up to him and ran his fingers through Lycoris’s black hair. “Was there ever any doubt?”

Gray eyes met red-brown and Lycoris sighed. He turned away from Marvolo without even answering, though he still held the gift. “It’s funny,” he finally said, when he was at the door, holding the handle, though not looking at Marvolo. “My father wanted me to date a half-blood.”

Then he was gone and Marvolo was all alone. He cursed himself and slammed his fist down on the pillow, wondering if he would ever see Lycoris in private again.

…

She was tall for her age. Her dark brown eyes were obstructed by glasses and her hair fell in strawberry blonde curls. 

Draco was waiting for her in Madam Puddifoot’s and he stood as soon as she approached.

“Heir Draco,” she said, curtseying slightly.

“Miss Astoria,” he greeted, taking her hand and lifting it to just below his lips. “You look beautiful.”

She blushed and didn’t look in his eyes, instead taking the seat across from him. When she didn’t speak, he ventured, “I didn’t choose a tea. I didn’t know what you’d prefer.”

“Oh,” she whispered. “I—do they have Irish Breakfast? I know it’s not terribly refined, but it is my favorite.”

Draco smiled at her and began looking through the tea box before withdrawing three packets. One for each of them and the third for the pot. “We’re in luck.”

“I suppose we are.” She was blushing again. “I—why not Daphne?” she asked boldly, still not looking at him.

“Your sister doesn’t interest me. She listens to Celestina Warbeck, reads Witch Weekly as if it were her favorite textbook, and has nothing to say although we’re both Prefects. You, on the other hand, are intelligent, heal wounded animals, and have started an illegal Quidditch betting ring that have the professors stumped. Even the Weasley twins can’t figure out who you are.” He grinned at her.

“How could you possibly think that?” she asked in shock.

“You’re dirt poor and yet you wear robes lined in acramantula silk. It’s a dead giveaway.”

She blushed again.

“Shall I play mother?” Draco asked solicitously and she could only nod. As he poured the tea and offered her milk and sugar, he noticed she was staring at him in wonder.

“Father drinks away all our money,” she suddenly admitted. “We’re Greengrasses. We should have nice robes.”

“I never said otherwise,” Draco agreed. “If you may have noticed, my robes are stitched with unicorn hair.”

“I had, actually.” She was clearly in her element. “Fairy Woven Silk? I can’t get an appointment there.”

“I’ll send them a line,” he promised. “No witch seen with me should be forced to dress inferiorly.”

“What if it’s just my family pushing me toward you?”

“I think,” he stated plainly, “you have more money than you can spend. You clearly could buy them off if you really wanted to.” He smirked at her when she clearly had nothing to say to that.

He took a sip of his tea. It was simply dreadful, but if Astoria liked it, then he supposed he could put up with it for the rest of his life.

…

Lycoris didn’t know what to do. He sat in the Three Broomsticks and eventually found himself staring at the fireplace. He couldn’t go and see Uncle Lucius. That would give too much away. But Father… he could go see Father… 

Standing behind a group of students, he pinched some floo powder and threw it into the fire. “Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” he called out, before stepping into the flames. He swirled until he finally ended up in the kitchen and he looked around. 

“Father!” he called out, but heard nothing. “Father!”

Kreacher popped in front of him. “Master be out with Mistress Flo,” he told Lycoris, who immediately sagged. 

“Can you go find him? Please? I need to talk to him.”

Kreacher bowed. “If it bes what little master be wishing.” Then with another pop he was gone.

Lycoris waited in the kitchen for over an hour, but then he heard the front door opening and hurried footsteps rushing toward him.

“Coris?” Sirius exclaimed. “Coris?”

Flo was right behind him, but Lycoris didn’t care. He flung himself in his father’s arms and started crying. The gift was abandoned on the new shining oak kitchen table.

“What’s wrong, Coris?” Sirius asked desperately. “Shouldn’t you be at Hogwarts?”

“He’s a half-blood,” Lycoris admitted. “Everyone thinks he’s a pureblood, but today he told me he was a half-blood. He’s my boyfriend and I let him hold me and I let him kiss me and he’s a fucking half-blood!” By this point he was screaming and pulling at his hair, but Sirius just held him closer.

“What did he say?” Sirius asked quietly. “That makes all the difference.”

Lycoris choked back a sob. “His father was a Muggle who left his mother when he found out she was a witch.”

“Lie,” Flo said carefully, coming around, “I know how much blood status means to you. It means a great deal to me, too, and your father and I have fought about it a few times. But, Lie, he is essentially a pureblood. His father is a—what do they call it in the Muggle world when you just give your essence to create a child?”

“Sperm donor,” Lycoris admitted.

“Exactly. His mother was the true influence in his life. She’s the one who was abandoned, just as he was; she’s the one who nurtured him inside her body. He’s a pureblood, darling. Everyone thinks he’s one because he was brought up to be one. His heritage shows that. Now, traditionally, I would not make this argument. Far from it, but I think this may be the case for your friend.”

“But that can’t be possible. He was brought up in a Muggle orphanage.”

“It can be true in extreme cases,” Flo assured him. “I understand that you were raised by Muggles. If you had not been found and you had not been taught, you would have been a Muggle-born despite your pureblood status. Can you understand, Lycoris? I would bet my magic that your boyfriend did not enter this world as a Muggleborn. Far from it, in fact. You cannot trick a pureblood, Lie. Like recognizes like.”

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” He looked at Flo who was holding the thong.

“You must mean a great deal to him for such a costly gift,” she murmured. “This isn’t just some trinket, but something tailored to your House. And he told you about his parents because he trusts you. I doubt there are very few people he has ever told in his life.”

“Go find him,” Sirius said. “Take the floo powder. Make your best guess.” He kissed the top of Lycoris’s hair. “I can tell that you care for him. Go, now. Be happy.”

After grabbing the thong, Lycoris ran to the floo and took a pinch of it. “Malfoy Manor!” he called before entering the flames.

“What a strange place to go,” Sirius murmured, curling his arm around Flo’s waist. “You were wonderful, darling.”

“Young love. What can I say?”

Lycoris folded himself out of the green flames and immediately stepped out of the fire. Calling for a house elf, he asked, “Is the Dark Lord here?”

“I nots be knowing…”

“That’s a ‘yes,’ then.”

Lycoris took the grand stairs two at the time and guessed that the best place to check would be Uncle Lucius’s study. Without bothering to knock, he swung open the doors to see his uncle, Barty Crouch, Jr., and Marvolo. Without even thinking about it, he walked up to Marvolo, took the brandy from his hand, and kissed him, deep and slow, settling into his lap and moving his hands into his hair. The thong lay on the table beside them, momentarily forgotten in the feel of tongue on tongue and lips on lips.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into Marvolo’s ear. “I was shocked. I talked to Flo and she explained it to me. I didn’t use names, of course, but I’m so, so sorry. I just, I didn’t know what to think. Not after everything that happened to me.”

“Hush,” Marvolo whispered, moving his face forward and clasping it in his hands. “You need never apologize for anything that happens between us.”

Lycoris smiled. “Thank you for the gift,” he murmured. “It’s truly beautiful.”

“The wizard at The Glass Slipper had no idea what to do with my order,” Marvolo admitted. “But it mattered not in the end. Now, champagne, I think, even for Heir Lycoris,” Marvolo declared. “I won’t hear a word about it, Lucius. I know you raised him, but some things are worth celebrating.”

Lycoris blushed.

“My-my lord,” Crouch stuttered. “I don’t—“

“Heir Lycoris is my lover,” Marvolo explained. “We had a small miscommunication. It’s settled now.” 

Champagne glasses were passed out with strawberries placed in them and then the champagne was being poured.

“Come, sit beside me,” Marvolo requested, and Lycoris realized he was straddling him. They clinked their glasses and drank to their health. “I wanted to give you something—earlier,” Marvolo whispered and took out a small box from an inner robes pocket.

“Something beside the thong?”

“What can I say? My heart declares that I should spoil you,” he whispered into Lycoris’s ear, making him blush.

Lycoris set down his champagne flute and took the box, opening it. “But this is an heir’s ring!” he gasped.

“In the case of lovers,” Lucius explained, “they can sometimes be used to show commitment. It is a great honor, Son.”

Beaming at his adopted father as it was the first time he’d called him ‘son,’ Lycoris let Marvolo slip the ring onto his left hand, where he kissed it. “It’s the Gaunt ring, my mother’s family,” he admitted. “Now everyone will know you are taken.”

“Possessive much?” Lycoris teased, but Marvolo only chuckled.

They spent the night at Malfoy Manor. Lucius had kissed him on the head and told him he could go back to Hogwarts the next day, and said nothing when Marvolo had followed him out. Marvolo undressed as he had the previous afternoon, and Lycoris got into a set of his pajamas.

“Are you ready for this?” Marvolo asked. “It means a great deal, to sleep in each other’s arms.”

“I meant it, earlier, when I said I wanted to be held by you,” Lycoris admitted, pulling back the covers. “And I want to forget all the earlier unpleasantness.”

“Then we shall forget about it,” Marvolo decided as he caressed Lycoris’s cheek. “You are truly a wonder.”

“Why?”

“You don’t want to be with me for my power or my political capital. You seem to want to be with me, simply, for me.”

Lycoris smiled and kissed the palm of Marvolo’s hand. It was a simple gesture, but one that showed all of his longing for his lover. “You make my heart stop. I suppose I fancy you, Lord Voldemort.”

They climbed into the bed together and Lycoris rested his head on Marvolo’s chest. “I have nightmares,” he admitted. “They’re not as frequent as before, but I still have them about—before.”

“I do as well,” Marvolo admitted. “About the orphanage.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t have an Uncle Lucius and an Aunt Narcissa,” Lycoris murmured.

Running his hand through Lycoris’s hair, Marvolo whispered, “I’m glad you did.”

…

She wasn’t in Azkaban, not yet, anyway. Instead, she was in a DMLE holding cell. It was in the basement of the Ministry of Magic where it was cold and damp. Magical Maintenance didn’t bother to come down here so there was a trickle of water that dripped from above and occasionally a white rat would scurry by. The cells were half circles, so she only really could sit. She could never lean her back against anything as she had to pitch her head forward.

Her hair was greasy and hadn’t been washed for weeks. She hadn’t had a single visitor. That is, until today.

Snape’s hair was still cut to his shoulders, black, and lank with potions fumes. His hooked nose was more pronounced in the shadows, and his robes were blacker than black.

“Miss Granger,” he murmured.

“Professor,” she answered tearfully. “You’re the first friendly face I’ve seen down here.”

“You may be the first person to call me friendly in a great many years, Miss Granger.”

She shrugged. “You’re friendlier than my interrogators.”

“I would imagine so.”

They lapsed into silence. Hermione wondered exactly why he was here. Then, Snape spoke. “I represent certain individuals who have an interest in your particular case.”

“Why?”

“Do not interrupt, Miss Granger,” he warned. “In exchange for exerting their influence to seeing that these charges are either dropped or your sentence is greatly reduced, you will give up your magic for the rest of your life and emigrate to New Zealand.”

Hermione waited for him to stop. “New Zealand.”

“I understand it has an exceptionally warm climate,” he mentioned. “The interested parties do not want to see your family, mere Muggles, gain satisfaction from your conviction.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Hermione was confused.

“Muggles should never rely on magic, even when harmed by it,” Snape replied. “You will enter a convent school for orphans and can continue your studies there. You will refrain from contacting any wizard or witch you have ever met. If you ever encounter the magical world again, you will act like a common Muggle, befuddled and confused. Do we have an accord, Miss Granger?”

She thought about it for a moment and imagined how much worse Azkaban could be. Hermione had heard Sirius talk about it a few times, and she would do almost anything to not end up there. “We have an accord,” she agreed. Immediately, she felt magic bind her to Snape and her breath caught. When the pulling sensation ended, she asked, “Who are these interested parties?”

“The Dark Lord,” he answered simply. “You angered his lover, who wanted you gone. Surely even you can understand the power of lust and possibly even love.”

“You-Know-Who loves?”

“Some close to him say that he does, or he very nearly does. He has given his ring to his lover. That is a sign of great affection and love in the wizarding world.”

“Who?” Hermione asked.

“Can’t you guess? Who wanted you gone?”

Lycoris Black. Her heart sank. “Will my parents see me?”

“I understand they will be at the trial. The Dark Lord is said to be going. You will not, of course, recognize him. The only person who has is, of course, his lover. They seem to have a unique relationship.” He sneered at this. Then with a flare of his robes, he was gone.

Hermione curled up in on herself and began to cry.

…

Rosa was stunned. She folded up the letter and sat in the window seat of the library and just stared out the window. Her father was definitely going to be married this Yule, to a Miss Jarvis. Perhaps there would be a definitive heir after all.

“You seem sad,” Master Roger said, coming over and sitting at her feet. “I hope our date was not so horrible.”

A small smile played on her lips. “Hardly,” she disagreed. “I loved eating too much chocolate and mixing it with butterbeer. It was as disgusting as I thought it would be.”

“I thought that was entirely the point? To avoid Madam Puddifoot’s and just be ourselves?”

“It was,” she agreed, reaching out and stroking his Ravenclaw tie. “I was just lost in myself. Father’s getting remarried.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” he asked hesitantly.

“Good,” she answered. “I was passed over as heiress for my stepbrother, who is not even a Vane. With a new marriage, there might be a Vane boy who can inherit. I love my brother Roland, truly, I do, but it bothers me how fond he is of my younger sister Romilda.”

“Fond?” he questioned, a little uncertain. He perched himself on the window seat and she felt the heat of his body. It caused her to smile slightly.

“She’s thirteen and has started to grow up. He looks at her in ways that he shouldn’t. I tried to bring it up to Father, but he just brushes it off. Milly is too young to notice anything and whenever I try to speak to Roland about it, we end up having a shouting match.”

“They’re not biologically related?” Roger asked carefully.

“Thank the old gods, but no. Still, I don’t like it. They’re both my half sibling through different parents.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Master Roger,” she asked after a pause. “I know we’ve only been to Hogsmeade once and I just told you something potentially disturbing about the Vanes, but will you escort me to my father’s wedding?” Rosa looked at him hopefully.

“I’d love nothing more,” he answered, “I’d kiss you right now if I could.”

She sighed. “I’ll just have to imagine it, then.”

They smiled at each other.

…

“Black,” Snape called, and Lycoris turned around and looked at him. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing with the Granger girl?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Professor,” he answered innocently.

“The Death Eaters are abuzz with it.” He stood up from his desk, his hands clasped behind his back, and walked around it. “We all knew there was some strange reason the Dark Lord was taking an interest in a Muggleborn student and creating this elaborate hoax to frame her so she would end up in the hands of the DMLE. Then Barty Crouch admits that you and the Dark Lord are lovers. Suddenly all the pieces fall into place. You despise the little Know-It-All and she had just made prefect over your own choice. So, are you certain you know what you are doing?”

“I always know what I’m doing, Professor,” Lycoris answered carefully. “I thought you knew how meticulous I was?”

“Yes, you have always been an ideal pupil.” He sighed. “She’s being exiled to New Zealand as a Muggle.”

Lycoris shrugged. “Could have been worse.”

“The Dark Lord in his mercy thought this would be best. It would be better not to let the Muggle family feel closure over the matter. You know how much he hates Muggles.”

“I can only imagine,” Lycoris murmured. “His track record from the war proves such.”

“You are very careful with your words.”

“I was raised by Slytherins. Would you expect anything less?”

“No, I suppose not,” he growled. “Now get out.”

Lycoris bowed slightly before collecting his bag. He walked out of the dungeon with his head held high, glad that Granger would be gone out of his life for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter we should have more of Hermione (or Hermia) in New Zealand with her life (and love) there...


	10. Part the Ninth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon Sydney Chambers is the main character of the Sydney Chamber mysteries. He is a minister in the Anglican church who is posted in Cambridgeshire and solves mysteries back in the 1950s after serving in World War II. I kind of transplanted him. I don't really count it as a crossover per sey, an certainly not a fusion. He just kind of wandered in ... he doesn't solve crimes here, I'm sorry to say, but he is a Muggle.

**Part the Ninth—**   
_“So I sent [my heart] to a place in the middle of nowhere / with a big black horse and a cherry tree”_   
**—“Black Horse and a Cherry Tree,” KT Tunstall**

Lycoris sprang out of the fire and looked about him. Samhain had, of course, been in his arms, given his long stay, and the cat jumped from him into the main house. He was in a comfortable sitting room, done in dark green and gold, with several landscapes hanging from the upper level that was left open to a skylight.

“Welcome to my father’s seat,” Marvolo greeted, as he came from around the corner. “I’m afraid you won’t find any magical portraits here.”

“No,” Lycoris agreed. “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

The two wizards looked at each other, really looked, and then Lycoris was staring at the ceiling again. “This is a truly beautiful room.”

“I like to stay in here during thunderstorms,” Marvolo admitted. “I lie on one of the sofas and just look up.”

The very thought caused Lycoris’s heart to stick in his throat. 

“Relax, darling. Nothing need happen that you do not want it to.”

“But we’ve planned—“

“For an entire weekend together, alone. You’re just sixteen years old. We can wait a few more months, a few more years even. Just because we’re both wizards doesn’t mean we have to jump into anything.” Samhain purred as she rubbed up against his leg and Marvolo looked down at the cat in amusement.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” Lycoris took a seat on the couch and looked at a beautiful rendition of the White Horse at Effington. “How did you do it?”

“Do what, Coris?” Marvolo asked as he came to sit across from him.

“Longbottom? The prophecy? I don’t understand. You never even told me. I found out with everyone else with The Daily Prophet. I thought we were equals—“

Marvolo pressed a finger against Lycoris’s lips. “We are, darling, in love. But you must know that I move politically. And it was something I wanted to show you. Something I thought you needed to know.” He sighed and withdrew back to his sofa. “I told you there was a mistake, that I was given false information. This was through a prophecy. There were two choices: the half-blood Harry Potter, who more mirrored my own origins, or the entitled Master Neville Longbottom. I chose Potter, and Heir Lycoris Black retained a scar he never should have had. In my moments of deepest contrition I believe it is a reminder to myself that I have hurt what I should have cherished and it is a blight on my very soul that all may see if you so wish it.”

“Marvolo, I—“

“I kidnapped Longbottom,” Marvolo admitted, “over Yule. Through legilimancy I suggested he go to the Department of Mysteries and find that prophecy. If it truly was about him, then he could touch it without going mad—and that’s exactly what happened. Of course, he took a band of misfits with him, including a Lord’s son, unbelievably, but such is life.” He ran his hand through Lycoris’s hair, leaning forward again. “I didn’t tell you because your lover didn’t do it; Lord Voldemort did.”

“Lord Voldemort is my lover,” Lycoris argued. “I’m not dating half of you. That’s preposterous!”

“But you are a neutral dark wizard, Coris, with a father firmly on the side of the light!”

“So? I never give away your secrets! I never give away his secrets.”

“You prove my point. You are neutral.”

Lycoris cried out in frustration. “How am I supposed to trust you if you won’t trust me? I don’t want every single one of your battle plans, that’s preposterous, but now you’re out there for the whole world to see. You fought Dumbledore with this strange snake face that I’ve never seen before in my life! The whole Ministry of Magic knows you’re back. My father doesn’t want me at the Malfoys any longer now that it’s ‘official’ and lines have to be drawn in the sand. It’s ridiculous!”

“Lucius would never let that happen,” Marvolo countered. “Lord Black thinks you’re there now. Where is he, anyway?”

“I convinced him and Flo they should have a summer honeymoon for a week. It wasn’t right that they couldn’t see magical China without all the snow.”

Marvolo laughed at that. “It’s a wonder you aren’t in Slytherin, my darling.”

“What’s the snake face?” Lycoris pressed again. He’d picked up Samhain from one of the sofas as he wasn’t certain she was allowed on them, and was petting her soft fur.

“A potion,” Marvolo admitted. “One of my own device. I take it before raids and meetings. It lends me an air of inhumanity and fear. It also makes me unrecognizable.”

“It does that,” Lycoris agreed. “Promise never to wear it around me if we’re alone.”

“Only if it has yet to wear off,” Marvolo swore. “It lasts several hours.”

“I’m not sure I could kiss you that way.” Lycoris made a face. “I may be your lover, and I don’t think of myself as vain, but really, Marvolo: a snake face is the limit.”

“Duly noted.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Now, let me show you the prophecy.” Lycoris put Samhain down so she could explore the house. She didn’t like being carried about, the persnickety thing.

It was a swirling gray orb and Lycoris looked down at it with interest. “May I touch it?”

“No. It may not pertain to you. Just swipe your hand over it and you’ll hear what it has to say.”

A figure rose out of the ball and Lycoris listened until it was finished. He looked up at Marvolo. “That was vague.”

“Yes, and I only had the beginning all those years ago,” he admitted. “My spy wasn’t able to get the entire thing for me at the time.” He leaned over and kissed Lycoris for the first time that day. It was gentle, smooth, and Lycoris caught his breath as he brought a hand to reach it into Marvolo’s hair.

“Let it down,” he begged. “I never see it down, and we are at home.”

“True, the floo has been blocked to anyone but your uncle,” Marvolo breathed as he undid the thong that held his dark brown hair. It fell in waves around his face, down past his shoulders, and Lycoris just ran his fingers through it.

“It’s so fine,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful to me.”

“I was always called ‘beautiful’ at Hogwarts, but I never thought it would mean anything to me, until it came from your lips.”

“Say this is forever,” Lycoris begged. “I know I’m just sixteen, and my uncle Regulus was your follower and grandfather was probably your age, and perhaps I’m just being silly, but I don’t want this to end. You make me feel safe, Marvolo. Do you know what that means? Do you truly know? I don’t even have to hide from Dumbledore when I’m with you.”

“Hush, my darling,” Marvolo promised as he kissed Lycoris again. “We have decades. I’m never letting you go. I refuse to release you to any witch even for a family. I’ll give you children. We’ll make it work. We’ll have to make it work.”

…

Hermione Granger was no longer Hermione Granger. Instead she was Hermia Grange, the smartest pupil at the convent, who had been given private tutors at the university and was set to attend next year.

All the nuns loved her. They tried to temper her less Christian attitudes and instill kindness and understanding in her, and she tried to be an apt pupil, she really did. Hermia helped the little ones with their studies, and on Thursdays she met with the Legion of English Descendants, who welcomed her with open arms.

Everyone wondered what happened to her parents. She never spoke of them.

There was a new parson. He had taken an interest in her and walked along a garden path with her one afternoon, while looking at her profile. “How are your studies?” Reverend Chambers asked. He was young and ruggedly handsome and everyone in the village said he should take a wife. He had a friend, a young lady who would come from the city every week, but she’d been doing that for over a year, and he still hadn’t asked her to marry him.

“Quite well,” Hermia answered. “I’ve been advanced in mathematics again and my Latin and French are quite good. My parents used to take us to France for the holidays.”

“How wonderful! How you must miss it!”

“Yes, Elissa and I always had a grand old time,” she admitted sadly. “Still, nothing for it. That was then and this is now.” Hermia looked at him and smiled. “I have a new family.”

“I’ve wondered why, Miss Grange, you were sent to us,” Reverend Chambers began carefully. “I looked in your file, and it’s said nothing.”

“Oh,” Hermia said, ready to rehearse the old story. “Mum, Dad, and Elissa died in a fire and I was left to an uncle. He lived out here. When he died, I went to the nuns.”

“How horrible it must have been for you.”

“Quite. I don’t like to think on it now,” she admitted. “Things had been said at the end that weren’t—what they should be.” Hermia looked over at him again. “What of you, Reverend Chambers? All of the girls are dying to know when the lady with raven hair will become the new vicar’s wife.”

“I’m afraid that’s just not possible,” he admitted. “She’s from one of the wealthiest families on the islands and I’m just a humble vicar.”

“I know what that’s like,” Hermia admitted. “Still, there’s always hope, unless she has powerful friends and frames you for a crime you didn’t commit. But let’s think the best of her.”

Chambers looked at her oddly. “I fear there is more to that story.”

“There’s always more to any story,” Hermia admitted. “Let’s just say I annoyed the wrong person who was lovers with a very powerful man. Things did not end well for me.”

“This counters your story concerning the fire.”

“Perhaps it does,” she admitted. “But even the most seasoned politicians, when they send somebody away, can rewrite your history, can they not?”

He looked her over and stopped his bike. “Come to tea with me,” he said suddenly. “Whoever you are.”

“What about the raven haired beauty?”

“Forget about her. Come to tea. Mrs. Waters will make something nice.”

“When?” Hermia asked cautiously. 

“Tomorrow. Four o’clock. You don’t have lessons, do you?”

“No,” she answered. “I finish at three.”

“Then come to tea,” he reiterated. “If what you’re saying is true, they sent you a long way to keep you quiet.”

“Have you ever known me to lie?”

“No,” he admitted. “I never have.”

…

It was after dinner that Marvolo showed him through a series of halls and finally to an oaken door. “This is my bedchamber,” he began. “It is yours until you leave. If you ever wish for me to go, you have only to ask, and I will vacate the room. Is that understood?”

Lycoris nodded once and then the doors were pushed open. 

Everything was done in oak with a large canopy bed engulfing the center of the room. It had dark gold coverings and shimmering gold curtains. “I take it you like gold,” Lycoris teased, taking Marvolo’s hand and kissing it. 

“Gold is for royalty,” he admitted. “I am the heir of Slytherin, after all.”

“But of course,” Lycoris teased. “Do you take a particular side of the bed?”

“The right.”

Lycoris nodded and headed to the left, immediately unlacing his boots and pulling them off. 

“Don’t be so unromantic about it,” Marvolo chided, as he came up to Lycoris and took the second boot in his hand and began to undo the lacings himself. Their eyes met for several seconds, purple on red-brown, and then Marvolo threw the boot to the side and surged up for a kiss. 

It wasn’t passionate. Far from it. It was soft and warm and comforting, reminding Lycoris that he should have nothing to fear. Robes were pushed off languidly and thrown to the floor where house elves would undoubtedly pick them up, and Marvolo gently pushed Lycoris down on his back. He took Lycoris’s two wrists in his hand and pulled them above his head as he continued to kiss him, his hand snaking until he felt the bulge in his trousers.

Afterward, when the two lay curled around each other, Lycoris breathed in deeply. “Is that what a girl feels like?”

“I don’t know,” Marvolo answered honestly. “I’ve always given the pleasure. I’ve never received it.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical?”

“Not particularly, no,” Marvolo answered. “I had no control as a child. I seek it whenever I can find it and I told you—I am a kind and generous companion.”

“True,” Lycoris snuggled closer. “Do we sleep like this or do we put on some sort of sleepwear?”

“Whatever you prefer. It’s entirely up to you.”

“Hmm. I don’t know which one I want.”

“Then think about it for awhile. It’s not yet ten.” He kissed Lycoris’s messy curls. “I must admit I like you like this, in my arms.”

“I’ll still be in your arms,” Lycoris groused. “I’d just be clothed.”

“Then let me take your mind off of it.” Marvolo looked down at him, his hair fanned out on the pillow. “I have a political proposition for you.”

“I thought I was neutral,” Lycoris began petulantly.

“That’s what makes you so perfect.”

Lycoris sighed. “Go on.”

“I’m going to suggest to Minister Scrimgeour and Professor Dumbledore that there be an Ambassador between the two causes, one that can travel freely between the two camps. They will come up with a list and I will reject every candidate, producing only one myself—you.”

“Me.”

“You’ve almost reached your majority. You’ve received political lessons since you were eleven. You have ties to both the dark side and the light side, and I am personally fond of you, although they won’t need to know that unless it’s strictly necessary.”

“And I’ll get to see you more,” Lycoris concluded.

“And you’ll get to see me more.”

Lycoris flopped onto his back. “Father won’t like it. At all. He wants me out of this war as much as possible. He still thinks it was a mistake to bring you to Grimmauld Place the beginning of my fifth year.”

“That was a necessity,” Marvolo argued. “You would have wasted away, probably.”

“Probably,” Lycoris agreed. “You know, we can use this to our advantage.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I can demand changes to laws regarding male metamorphmagi and how they are allowed to bear children to their own line as long as they are married to another wizard. I’ll get it in writing that I’m permitted to marry Lord Riddle upon my seventeenth birthday.”

“Dumbledore and your father will know who I am.”

“I don’t care. I’ll be seventeen and making decisions for my own house. It doesn’t matter if Flo has any sons: I secure the heirs. The others will just patter out into obscurity in a few generations.”

“Do you have so little love for your own stepmother?”

“I have great respect for my own stepmother,” Lycoris countered. “I just don’t favor any more children. I don’t want siblings young enough to be my children. Io is young enough at eleven.” He paused. “Can you do something for me?”

“What is it?”

“I know my mother wasn’t Miss Isabelle Rosier. I want to know who is. She won’t appear on the tapestry, it’s too late for that, but I’d like to know.”

“The results may not be to your liking.”

“No,” Lycoris agreed. “But I wanted to know who the Potters hated enough that they stole the child of their best friend.”

“Consider it done.”

And it was, as far as Lycoris was concerned. He snuggled into Marvolo’s embrace and let his breaths even out until he fell asleep.

Lycoris woke to sunshine in his eyes, his arm outstretched against an empty pillow. He looked up and saw that he was alone. His clothes were all neatly pressed and waiting on a divan and, after taking a warm shower and leaving his hair wet, he put them on.

He and Marvolo had decided on a simple weekend with no elaborate change of dress. They would not change for dinner or for different days. Instead, Lycoris’s clothes would be laundered.

Lycoris wandered about the halls until he found Marvolo in a bright and airy study, an oriental carpet on the floor. “Mal?” he asked, for the first time using the nickname he had devised for his lover.

Marvolo looked up and smiled. “I thought I’d get a start on finding your mother,” he mentioned. “I’m almost positive she was in Slytherin.”

“Why do you say that?”

“That secret nature of the wedding,” Marvolo replied as Lycoris came to sit on the edge of his chair. “The key here is ‘Rosier.’ If she was not a Rosier herself, then her mother probably was.”

Lycoris picked a piece of parchment off the desk. “It can’t be.”

“She is not in Slytherin.”

“No,” Lycoris agreed. “But she would be the most controversial. Imagine the scandal, Mal.—Lady Lux Kingsley. His own godsister. Her mother was a Malfoy. Such things are anathema.” He took a deep breath through his nose.

“Wizards can’t marry godsiblings, Coris,” Marvolo tried to explain. “The godsibling bond is too strong. They are brothers and sisters.”

“Look at the Blacks. They don’t marry brothers and sisters but they marry cousins. If they can get around that, then Sirius Black can get around this. I wonder if Uncle Lucius knows. He must have some inkling.—what happened to her?”

Marvolo took the paper and read it. “It doesn’t technically say, but I believe it was suicide.”

“Suicide?”

“She lost a baby and perhaps a husband in a time of war. It was not unheard of for witches to commit suicide.”

Lycoris felt lost and began to sway. However, Marvolo deftly caught him and held him to his chest. “I need to see what she looks like. I need to see. Now.”

“We’ll go to Malfoy Manor,” Marvolo promised, “just after breakfast. You’re looking too pale.”

They didn’t talk much over breakfast. Lycoris was too obsessed with the idea, and Marvolo let him be. They took the floo out midmorning and found Lucius in his study. Lycoris tried to speak, but found that the words would not come out.

“Lucius,” Marvolo began. “We might have a slight problem.”

“Problem? Is Lycoris not well?”

“He’s had a shock,” Marvolo agreed, settling Lycoris down into a chair. “A whiskey, I think.”

Lucius sighed but poured the glass and pushed it into Lycoris’s hand. He took a sip and felt the familiar burn down his throat.

“Lycoris,” Marvolo began, “believes that Miss Isabelle Rosier is not his mother.”

“I don’t think anyone believes that,” Lucius agreed. “However, she is the only Rosier we have to choose from.”

“It’s a ruse, Uncle Lucius. A terrible ruse,” Lycoris got out. “Mother wasn’t a Rosier at all.”

Lucius’s face darkened and he went to his desk where he pulled out a picture of a smiling witch with bright blonde hair. “She was named after me,” he admitted. “Lux was only about five years younger. Her mother and my sister, Lady Madeleine, was about ten years older than I was, you must understand. I was more of a brother to Lux than anything. She spent much of her time at the Manor.”

He came around the desk and handed over the photograph, which showed Sirius and Lux together, Sirius holding Lux closely to him as they smiled at each other.

“Lux was in Ravenclaw, like you, Lycoris. There was never a formal wedding, so I never brought it up. It’s shameful for siblings to marry and I didn’t want you to have to carry that burden. I’m so sorry, Son. I love you as much as I do my own children, and I would do everything to protect you. I hope you know that, but only your father can really say what happened.”

“Why Lycoris?” Marvolo asked. “Why not a star?”

“Lycoris is an old Black name. It was used for one of Lycoris’s great aunts. I remember Lux saying to Sirius once that it would suit if they were never godsiblings and had a child. She was the light, and her child would be the twilight.”

“Oh my god,” Lycoris breathed. “It’s really incestuous?”

“Magically, yes.”

Then Lycoris broke down crying and he felt warm arms wrap around him and he could only cry heavily onto a shoulder. His hair was brushed away from his face and then kisses were reigned down over his temple until his sobs became choked and short and finally ended.

He finally pulled away and found himself looking into red-brown eyes. “This is worse than what I was upset about—before,” he whispered, referring to the day he found out Marvolo’s father was a Muggle.

“I’ll tell you why it isn’t when we’re back at Riddle Manor,” he promised, “where I hope you’ll let me take you after all this.”

Lycoris nodded before turning back to Lucius. “Why did Lily and James hate her so much?”

“I can only speculate,” he began carefully. “You are aware that your father and his friends were called the Marauders. As far as I’m aware from your Aunt Narcissa, he was never as—tight—with them as he might have been. He was always with Lux, although she was a year older. They say that James Potter and Sirius Black were the best of friends, but that wasn’t strictly true. James Potter chased after the mudblood Lily Evans, and Sirius adored Lux. Of course, no one thought anything of it as they were godsiblings. Well, no one outside of the family.

“There was a terrible row about it just before Sirius’s fifth year and he left Grimmauld Place to stay with the Potters. I don’t know why he didn’t go to Lux and her family, perhaps they suspected, but he found sanctuary. For whatever reason, he wasn’t disowned. No one believed he would do the unthinkable. As far as anyone knows, he officially hasn’t.”

Lycoris looked at the picture and then let his cheekbones fall slightly. “I have her cheekbones,” he mentioned. “Look.” Both Lucius and Marvolo crowded around the picture and looked at Lycoris closely.

“It appears that you do,” Lucius murmured. “And her hair—the color and the curl, when you haven’t changed it.”

He laughed hollowly. “I guess you really are my uncle Lucius.”

“I was since that day Draco found you,” Lucius told him, cupping his cheek. “To me this changes nothing. Now. I only have the one copy of the photograph. I can magically make another in a couple of days and I’ll have it framed for you. I’ll make two copies, just in case Sirius gets agitated and ruins it.” They smiled at each other. “Would you like me to be there when you ask him about it?”

Lycoris shook his head. “No. I want to ask him first on my own. I think that’s only right. She may be my mother after all and the fewer people he thinks knows, the better. If it turns south, then, well, I’ll call you in.”

Lucius kissed his head. “All right, dear boy. Remember that I’m always here for you, even if I’m old and gray and confined to a chair. I am first and foremost, your father.”

“I know,” Lycoris answered quietly. “I wish I got a chance to call you that.”

“As long as I know that we are true family,” Lucius breathed, “then that will have to be enough. To the world, I am content to be your Uncle Lucius. But you will always be my ‘Son’ and I couldn’t be prouder.—Now,” he turned to Marvolo, “don’t get him drunk. Give him plenty of butterbeer if he needs to float away, but that’s it.”

“Duly noted, Lucius,” Marvolo purred, before he swept Lycoris into his arms and headed for the floo.


	11. Part the Tenth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been some comment on the weather in New Zealand after the last chapter. I apologise that I got it wrong. I wrote this fic on vacation without internet four years ago, and I am sorry for my ignorance.

**Part the Tenth—**   
_“I see that look in her face, she’s got that look in her eye / She’s thinking how did I get here and wondering why”_   
**—“22,” Lily Allen**

Lycoris held the photograph in his hand. There was one packed away in his trunk in a more ornate frame. This one was beautiful, of course, but it was simple and strangely reminded him of a wrought iron fence.

Sirius and Flo had gotten back from their second honeymoon the day before.

“What’s this all about?” Sirius asked as he walked into the library. 

“I did some digging,” Lycoris answered. “You know how curious I am, being a Ravenclaw.” He tried to smile but it fell flat.

“Coris, what is wrong?” Sirius asked, coming closer, but Lycoris just shrugged him off.

“I’ve never believed that Isabelle Rosier was my mother. I know you’ve never believed it either despite all those papers you’ve signed. So—I looked for her. Mother, I mean. At first I thought since she probably wasn’t a Rosier, then her mother must have been, but then it occurred to me, what if it was a ruse?”

“Lycoris, stop right there!” Sirius said, coming closer.

“And then I found her,” Lycoris laughed hysterically. “Quite by accident. And then do you know what I found out? You were crazy about each other. Mad. She’d even picked out my name.”

“Lycoris—no good can come of this.”

“Of course it can’t!” Lycoris screamed, throwing the picture at him. “You and Mother were godsiblings!” He started crying. “The name Rosier was from the Blacks, wasn’t it? Aunt Narcissa’s mother was a Rosier! How could you keep this from me? I’m your son! James and Lily Potter stole me from you! And you put some woman up on the tapestry and let Mother rot! Did you know she committed suicide after she lost me and you got thrown into Azkaban? Did you? Why isn’t she immortalized in our family? Why?”

“It’s illegal!” Sirius railed back. “If anyone found out, I could go straight back to Azkaban! You’d be a bastard!” He ran a hand down his face. “You were never supposed to know.”

“I have her cheekbones. Her curling blond hair. Her eyes. How were you going to keep me a secret?”

“We had a little cottage and she was going to be a war widow, and I would see you during holidays. It was all planned, Coris. All planned. You wouldn’t know you were a Black until you went to Hogwarts.”

Lycoris was crying again. “Does Flo know? Did you tell her and not me?”

“Of course she doesn’t know and she’s never going to find out!” Sirius whispered. “No one is ever going to find out!”

“Well, Uncle Lucius knows. Where do you think I got the picture? I want it on your desk, by the way. I want the ones of Isabelle Rosier gone. I want all her pictures gone!” He sighed and sat down. “This is one large mess. Why did they take me?”

“I told James once we graduated. He didn’t approve. It was a bit rich considering he’d married a Muggleborn against his parents’ wishes. Things were never the same after that. Then Lux got pregnant. We were so happy. We invited Lily and James over and then—a few days later—you were gone. A month later Lily announced that she and James were going to have a baby and I was named godfather. I never made the connection.” He put his head in his hands. “Gods, I loved your mother so much, Coris. Words can’t describe. She was the love of my life.”

“This is such a mess,” Coris muttered. “I’m the product of magical incest, stolen, abused by Muggles, Harry fucking Potter, and now a bastard pureblood heir. I can never catch a break.”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.”

“I can’t be around Flo right now. It’s too painful.” He handed over the picture, which he’d somehow gotten back. “On your desk. Now.”

“I love you, too, Coris,” Sirius said sadly.

“And I never want to hear Isabelle’s name mentioned again. Not even by Flo. Tell her that. Make up any excuse you want. Just—no.”

“Understood. I’ll have Kreacher send you up something.”

Lycoris nodded and left the room, tears sliding down his face.

…

“This is a courtesy call,” Lucius said as he sat down in the library, the Dark Lord choosing to stand and look about the room. 

Sirius glanced at his two guests and swallowed. “I understand that I have you to thank for certain photographs that came into my son’s possession.”

Lucius waved his hand. “Think nothing of it. Family is family and Lux was like a younger sister.”

“Yes,” Sirius said through clenched teeth. “I remember.”

“This, however, is not about your godsibling and wife,” the Dark Lord said, turning. “This is a courtesy call. I will be suggesting to Minister Scrimgeour and Professor Dumbledore that we use an ambassador to go between the lines. Someone who has complete immunity. As you are both interested parties, I thought you should both be here.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Sirius asked, a little petulantly.

“While I suspect the Light will have several candidates, I have but one: Heir Lycoris Black.”

Sirius stiffened. “He is just a boy.”

“A dark wizard with ties to both the light and the dark. I understand Lady Lux, despite her name, was quite skilled in curses and hexes, was she not, Lord Black?”

“You speak of Heiress Sirius, Dark Lord,” Sirius reminded him.

“Perhaps I do. However, your family tree says otherwise.” He smiled at him. “Heir Lycoris is brilliant, charismatic, and is noncontroversial. He owes no particular allegiance to you, apart from a love for his father, and no particular allegiance to me, apart for a love for his uncle. He is the perfect candidate.”

“What of his lover? I know you know who he is.”

“That is not a problem. They rarely speak of politics.” The Dark Lord smiled. “I am surprised he hasn’t told you.”

“He tells Lucius everything first. I am merely secondary.” His jaw clenched. Clearly he was displeased with the situation.

“A pity,” the Dark Lord said. “Still, it is what it is. Lord Malfoy is the man who rescued him. Now, where is this pretty young wife of yours I’ve heard so much about? Is she carrying another Black heir?”

Sirius simply glared at him.

…

“What do you want to do with your life?” Reverend Chambers asked as he looked at Hermia.

She swallowed a bite of her sandwich. “I used to want to work for the British government. Human rights,”—of course, what she meant to say was ‘creature rights,’ but that wasn’t possible here—“but I think I’d rather do something else now.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I don’t want to be a nun, if that’s what you’re asking,” she laughed and he chuckled along with her. “There’s this theorem I’m working on in maths,” she admitted. “I think I’m very close to solving it, and if I could only get it published…” she shrugged.

“Big dreams,” he commented. “You don’t want a home and a family?”

“I did, once, in a way,” she admitted. “I fell for the son of a duke. Stupid, I know, got me in a world of trouble, but I thought if I was clever enough, he’d notice me and I could, well, be his duchess.”

“How romantic,” he surmised as he took a sip of his tea. “I take it this son of a duke had other ideas.”

“Quite. He has some lover who apparently has a lot of political power.” She laughed to herself. “If only his father knew.”

“Hmm,” Reverend Chambers said. “What of a simpler life?”

“Well, I’ve always had one. My parents were dentists. I think I’ve fit in quite well with the sisters.”

“I’ve heard nothing but glowing reports,” Reverend Chambers admitted. He paused. “What’s your real name, Hermia Grange?”

She looked startled.

“You were sent here by some court of law. Hermia Grange is not your real name. Tell me what it is.”

“She’s dead,” she whispered viciously. “They took everything she was and they killed it.”

“What did she do?”

Hermia looked at him with haunted eyes. “They found evidence on her sister that she had been cut on her back and upper arms with a rusty knife that was laced with poisoned herbs. Apparently they could tell it had been going on for years. The blade was found in my room so I was blamed. There was no testimony. Nothing. They just locked me up in this cell that was so small that I couldn’t even sit properly. And then this man I knew came. He said if I agreed to come and live in New Zealand, the man with the political power would have the charges dropped. I couldn’t stand twenty years of living in a hole.” She laughed. “I was a coward in the end. So they changed my name, gave me a fake life and papers, and sent me here. They even suggested it was the son of the duke who had set it all up. It was horrible.”

“What had you done to him?”

“I thought myself his equal. I know better now.”

He came over to her and placed a hand in her bushy brown hair. “You know, you’re quite pretty when you smile.”

“This hair ruins the effect. I’m thinking of cutting it.”

“That would be a sight,” he agreed, coming closer, his lips a breath away from hers. “What’s your name?”

“Hermia. Hermia Grange,” she whispered, and then he kissed her.

…

“You don’t have to do this,” Sirius reiterated as they gave over their wands to be weighed. Lycoris just sighed and looked down at his robes, which were a deep gold. He was royalty, he remembered. As the consort of the Dark Lord, he was royalty. “I also don’t see why you grew your hair out, and why it’s partially blond.”

That, at least was true. He’d grown it out to the middle of his back and then formed an elaborate twist so that it would hold without a ribbon. Of course, he was also wearing the golden thong for form. Dark blond streaks, reminiscent of his mother cascaded within the twist, making him look mysterious and powerful.

“I like it.”

“You look like you’re from the seventeenth century.”

“Mother would have liked it. I usually have blond hair when I’m not emulating you.”

“Your Cousin Andromeda has brown hair. It’s not unheard of for a Black. I understand her daughter Nymphadora might also have it when she’s not doing weird things with her hair as a metamorphmagus. So we don’t all have black hair. Look at Narcissa.”

“Please don’t make me meet them—well, I’ve technically met Tonks, but that was in passing. They’re blood traitors and half-bloods.” They were now walking toward the elevators and Sirius bumped shoulders with him. 

“I’ve learned my lesson with Hermione Granger,” he promised. “I won’t make you associate with the ‘lowly’ when you don’t want to. You seem to have some strange sixth sense about these things.”

“If only you knew the half of it,” Lycoris whispered as they entered a lift.

They went all the way to the top floor to the Minister’s office. Lycoris would have done a double take if he hadn’t seen pictures of Marvolo as Lord Voldemort with his snake face. It was truly gruesome. He really wasn’t sure he could kiss him like that. He might possibly gag. Lycoris didn’t care if Marvolo was suddenly the winner of this war and there was a public appearance: he would not kiss him like that. No!

Dumbledore was also sitting on the desk and the other occupied chair was holding Lucius. 

Sirius ushered Lycoris into the chair next to Lucius and then uncomfortably sat next to Marvolo.

“Well,” Dumbledore began. “It appears that Lord Voldemort wants an ambassador.”

“Very sensible,” Lucius put in. “There’s really no official way for the two sides of this conflict to talk or have cease fires.”

“Quite,” Dumbledore agreed. “The only name Voldemort is willing to consider, however, is Lycoris Black.”

“He’s too young,” Sirius stated. “I’ve already stated this in a previous meeting, but he’s far too young.”

“He’s sixteen,” the sibilant voice of Marvolo chimed. Lycoris certainly hadn’t been expecting that. He supposed a potion could change one’s voice, but could it make it that high? “He’s practically a man.”

“If I agree to this,” Lycoris began carefully, “I have certain conditions.”

“Conditions,” Minister Scrimgeour said. 

Lycoris shortened his hair and turned it pink. “I have the Black metamorphmagus gene,” he declared before returning his hair to the long black and blond tresses. “I can have children if I want.”

“That’s hardly—“

“I want the choice of marrying my male lover the first day of August and for any issue I produce to be legal Black heirs.”

“Coris,” Sirius breathed, but Lycoris just looked at him steadily.

“I agree,” Marvolo stated. “If we treat him like a man and ask for so great a sacrifice, we must make certain concessions.”

“But imagine the precedent!” Scrimgeour announced. “It will be a nightmare!”

“Make it a special act of the Wizengamot,” Lucius declared. “Such things are not unheard of. It will be singular to Heir Lycoris Black. I have met this lover and he is of the highest order. He will make an excellent sire to Black children.”

“By the gods,” Sirius announced. “I don’t even know his name! No one’s ever told me!”

Marvolo remained quiet in his chair.

“Lord Riddle,” Lycoris supplied. “Tom Marvolo Riddle. I call him ‘Mal.’”

“You call him ‘Mal.’ What does he call you?”

“Darling.”

Sirius groaned into his hands.

“Tom Riddle is over seventy years old,” Dumbledore stated, “and happens to be sitting to your right, Lord Black.”

“The Dark Lord,” Lycoris stated, pointing, “is definitely not Marvolo. I should know. He is my lover, after all.”

“I need to talk to my son,” Sirius suddenly exclaimed, standing up. “Malfoy, you come, too.”

The three walked out of the office and into the nearby alcove. Sirius took a deep breath. “We all know that’s not what You-Know-Who looks like.”

“Transfiguration, probably,” Lucius guessed, though his eyes gleamed with knowledge. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Coris,” Sirius said carefully. “What does Lord Riddle look like?”

“Are you trying to catch me out?” He looked affronted.

“I’m not—Malfoy!” Sirius looked at him seriously.

“If the Dark Lord is his lover, then I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell anything. That would be a breach of trust.”

Sirius deflated. “That’s a Slytherin ‘yes.’ You forget, Malfoy, I grew up in a house of Slytherins.” He turned back to Lycoris. “This is your time to come clean.”

“I’m not giving him up.” He looked hard at his father. “You broke all the rules. I come by it naturally.”

“And now he wants his young lover as ambassador. Gods, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to let this happen,” Lycoris said coolly. “He knows I’m neutral. He respects that. He likes that. Why not use it to everyone’s benefit?”

Sirius sighed. “Very well. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re wearing his ring. He’s also coming to dinner, even though it will put him near Flo, may the gods help me.”

“She’s pregnant with a girl, isn’t she?” Lycoris asked.

“How could you possibly—?”

“I looked at the family tapestry, hoping it will name Uncle Regulus’s daughter. It tells all about this baby.” He walked back into the Minister’s office with his uncle and father walking behind him.

…

Lycoris and Draco lay on Draco’s bed, shooting stars out of their wands. “She moved into a boarding house for witches?”

“I got Father to serve as a reference,” Draco supplied. “It was time to get her away from her horrible relatives and she had the funds.”

“I thought you liked Lady Daphne.”

Draco shrugged. “She’s fine, as far as prefects go. Pureblood, beautiful. She keeps up her robes even though they’re a bit threadbare. Could be worse.”

Lycoris laughed. “What would Aunt Narcissa say if she knew you were courting ‘new money’?”

“Don’t tell her,” Draco mock-whispered. “It would simply break her heart.”

…

Iolanthe stood in front of her father’s desk. “I’m eleven now,” she pointed out. “Can’t you sign a marriage contract with Lie?”

“You know I can’t, sweetheart,” Lucius said kindly. “You’re too young, and he’s inclined toward another.”

“But wouldn’t Cousin Sirius want me? I’m beautiful and cultured and—“

“Yes, darling, of course,” Lucius said, coming around the desk and picking her up. “However, you’re also second cousins, and I don’t think cousin Sirius will like that at all.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “But I want to be with Lie forever!”

“He will always be your brother,” Lucius soothed, “and will always love you. Be content with that, little one.”

…

Sirius was sitting at the breakfast table and was reading a letter. “Oh no,” he murmured before passing the letter to Flo.

“Is this even possible? She’s only a hypothetical on the family tree!”

“The tree is fickle. It didn’t list Lycoris’s mother. Now it supposedly doesn’t like foreign witches.” He sighed. “Coris, it appears you have a cousin.”

“I have three,” he answered as he took a bite of his toast. “Wait, do you mean—?”

“Yes, I mean one closer to you. Regulus, it seemed, had a daughter before he died. She’s several months older than you are.”

“Are you certain? The tree’s not lost it after all these centuries? Where has she been all this time?”

“France, with her mother,” Sirius explained, taking the letter back and looking at it. “It turns out Madame Alix Vilaneuve Black has contracted some disease that’s in French and I can’t make sense of, and her family won’t take the girl, so she’s sending her here to England. We’ll have to set up entrance exams for Hogwarts. I think she’ll be a sixth year with you and Draco. She’s apparently November, 1979. That makes it—” He looked like he was thinking “—two months after she was conceived that Regulus was murdered, the old dog.”

“I—“ Lycoris cleared her throat. “Please say I don’t have to marry her.”

“Gods, no,” Sirius said, reaching out his hand. “You don’t have to marry anyone you don’t want to, especially considering your conditions to Dumbledore and Scrimgeour. It’s just, she’s your cousin and she’s my niece. We must make way in our household for her.”

“I’m glad you’re here then, Flo,” Lycoris said kindly. “She’d probably feel lost without another woman in the house.”

“Yes, I imagine she would,” Flo agreed, smiling.

“What’s her name?”

“Lady Selenadora. Or Mademoiselle Sélènadore as the French would say. This is going to be a headache. I don’t know the first thing about French etiquette.”

“They wear their hair down with wreaths on their head,” Lycoris put in, remembering the French witches from fourth year. “Don’t ask me why.”

Sirius and Flo exchanged a look. This clearly was going to be difficult.

…

Everyone stared at one another when she came through the floo. Her long brown hair, which curled at the ends much like the Blacks, fell down her back and there was indeed a coronet on the top of her head. Her eyes were gray as fog and her face was thin but with the Black cheekbones. She was wearing rose leggings made of velvet that went halfway down the calf that were met with pale pink stockings and she wore a pink velvet jacket that was laced up like a corset in the front.

It was the strangest fashion choice Lycoris had ever seen.

She made an elegant curtsey.

“Uncle Sirius,” she said in perfect English, coming up to him. “I may call you that, may I not?” She air kissed both his cheeks. “I’m afraid I know so little about the Blacks. Papa died before I was born.”

“Of course,” Sirius said, pushing Flo slightly forward. “My wife, Lady Black.”

“You may call me Florence,” she said kindly, copying the air kiss. “I hope we’ll be great friends.”

Selenadora smiled at her, a twinkle in her eyes. “And this young man?”

“My son, Heir Lycoris Black. He’s a few months younger than you are.”

“What’s an ‘heir’?”

Stepping in, Florence answered. “Great houses have a ‘Lord,’ such as your uncle. He’s Lord Black, as I am Lady Black. The heir to his title is known as ‘Heir Lycoris.’ All other children are Lords and Ladies. You, for instance, are Lady Selenadora Black as you are the daughter of a younger son, Lord Regulus Black.”

“How confusing,” Selenadora admitted, trying to smile. “Still, I have weeks to learn before school, yes, school?”

Sirius nodded.

“I am certain you will help me with it.”

They all went to the drawing room where there was tea waiting. “Is there no café?” she asked, letting her accent shine through. “It is only, it is the afternoon.”

“We always drink tea,” Flo laughed, but she called Kreacher to make a pot of coffee for Selenadora.

After Selenadora was given a tour of the house, Lycoris showed her to her room. “This belonged to your father,” he offered. “We had Kreacher clean it out for you. You can have it redecorated however you want, but we weren’t certain of your preferences. Kreacher’s unpacked your trunks. Dinner’s at seven. Do you need anything?”

“No, I do not think so,” she said quietly. “Unless there is a book on English etiquette?”

“I don’t think we have one,” he apologized, “but I know Aunt Narcissa will. She’s Father’s cousin. I spent part of my childhood with her and her children. I’ll owl her for you and it should be here by morning.”

Selenadora slumped into a chair in relief. “It’s just so different. Even your clothes—“ she sighed.

“We can get you English ones, if you want,” Lycoris offered. “I know what this is like. I was stolen when I was a baby and left with Muggles, and had to suddenly learn everything in a month before school when I was eleven. It’s doable, Selenadora. You’ll surprise yourself.”

“I’m not eleven. I’m seize. Maman is sick, and I don’t know what to do. She always said Papa hated Uncle Sirius.”

“I think it went both ways,” Lycoris admitted. “But Father certainly does not hate you. You’re family and family is very important to him. Why don’t you come with me to Malfoy Manor in a couple of days? You can meet our other cousins and get to know more people.”

She nodded. “In a few days, yes. Could you have Kreacher come and find me when my harp arrives? I have no idea how they’re sending it.”

“Of course,” Lycoris promised, squeezing her shoulder, and then he left her to explore her new room.

…

“Your hair is still long,” Lucius noted when they arrived at Malfoy Manor. “And it’s a cross between your mother’s and your father’s.”

They held each other’s gaze. “I’m an ambassador now. I can keep my hair however long I please.” Lycoris grinned at him and Lucius engulfed him in a hug. “Lux would be proud,” he murmured. He then fingered the golden thong. “And the Dark Lord would be pleased to know you’re wearing this.”

Selenadora was behind him, wearing a new set of red robes that brought out the natural highlights of her hair.

“Oh, yes, everyone,” Lycoris called. “This is my cousin, Lady Selenadora Black. She was Uncle Regulus’s daughter.” He then proceeded to point everyone out and Selenadora greeted everyone carefully according to English etiquette.

Draco immediately pulled her to the side.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Narcissa mused next to Lycoris, clearly taking in the expensive cut of the robes, but the fact that her hair was down and a circlet was fitted atop her head. “A French tradition?”

“She refuses to break it. Apparently, it means she’s a maiden.”

“Interesting,” Narcissa said.

Selenadora turned her head to the side and blushed. 

“I know I shouldn’t be asking given Draco’s courtship, and you may not even know, but what’s her marriage portion?” She looked coyly at Lycoris.

“Really, Aunt? Do you think Father will ever allow cousins?”

“He allows you and the Dark Lord,” she murmured. “You never know.”

Lycoris sighed. “Well, I know she’s here for good. Father won’t let her go now that he has her. He has English law on his side and he doesn’t want her in France with relatives who don’t seem to want her. As to her marriage portion, I suppose it’s whatever Regulus had in his vaults. They’ve remained untouched. Father is providing for her entirely out of the main Black fortune.”

Narcissa smiled. “Regulus was always favored. This can only be a good thing. Go to Iolanthe. She’s trying to get your attention, and let’s let the lovebirds be.”

Lycoris looked over at his cousins again. Draco was laughing quietly while Selenadora was giggling behind her hand.


	12. Interlude

**Interlude—**   
_“Sometimes I feel you’re not listening / Sometimes I feel you don’t understand”_   
**—“Just a Little Girl,” Amy Studt**

“Lux,” Lucius said from his place on the sofa. “Lux.”

“I’m sorry, Lucius,” she murmured, coming and sitting on the chair diagonal to him. “It’s just Sirius. I got a letter from him.”

“The ever present godbrother,” Lucius sighed, putting down his cup of tea. “Well, we’ll never talk about my wedding to Narcissa until we get this out of the way. What does he have to say for himself?”

“They haven’t disowned him but they’ve scorched him off the tapestry and it’s all my fault.” Tears formed in her violet eyes. “He says he’s gone to the Potter boy’s—his mother’s a Black, so that should help—because he’s afraid the Kingsleys won’t give him sanctuary.”

Lucius came up to her a kneeled before her, grasping her hand. “What happened, Lux?”

She cried even harder. “They’re saying our friendship is unnatural. I know he doesn’t court any witches, and I’ve refused courtship offers, but there’s nothing wrong—“

“Hush now,” Lucius murmured, taking Lux into his arms. He could feel her frail arms come up around him, her long fingered hands tugging and then loosening on his waistcoat. “I’m sorry it’s come to this. I know how close you are.”

“Is it wrong?” she begged. “I love him so much. I know I should never say, but he’s mine, all mine.”

He stroked her hair. “Enough of that,” he murmured. “You don’t want to get in trouble with Madeleine or your father.”

She pulled away and dried her tears with the back of her hand. Lucius produced a handkerchief and she gladly took it. “No, of course not. How silly of me.”

“Well,” Lucius said, placing his hands on his thighs. “Heir Sirius is not disinherited, which is good. From what you’ve said over the years, he and Lord Regulus are not fond of each other, and I’m afraid if Sirius lost his title to his younger brother, it would only get worse.”

Lux laughed. “Yes. You’re probably right,” she agreed.

“Heir Regulus also doesn’t have the same sound to it,” Lucius concluded, making Lux laugh again.

“Now, before this wedding talk, I believe you had gossip on that friend of Sirius’s. I can’t remember his name.”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “James Potter.”

“The pureblood chasing after the Mudblood? Shameful behavior if there ever was one.”

“I’ve tried to introduce him to a few Ravenclaws, as a favor to Sirius, not that he seems to care, but it never seems to work. Potter looks at them, maybe asks them out on one date, and then forgets they ever exist. It’s all about this Evans girl.”

“Then what’s the gossip?”

“Well, Evans is best friends with a Slytherin, Snape. He’s the nephew of Lord Prince. The half-blood nephew.”

“Shameful,” Lucius tutted, getting back to his feet and to his sofa. He picked up his tea and heated it with his wand. He motioned that Lux should pour herself a cup. She sighed, but obliged him.

“Evans and Snape had a row. He called her a mudblood in public, if you can believe that. It’s absolutely shameful. Potter was so happy because now he thinks he has a shot with her, though Sirius is doubtful.”

“What do you think, my dear?” Lucius looked at her over the cup.

“You know what I think.”

“Humor your uncle.”

“Well, she’s a mudblood. A prefect, which makes her intelligent. The only way to rise socially is to marry a well-placed pureblood. Now, ideally, it would be Sirius, but he’s not interested, so her next best bet is Potter. Really, they’re all the same. If we revisit the subject in five years, you’ll see that I’m correct.”

“I have no doubt,” Lucius told her firmly. “Mudbloods are all alike. Now, I’m having a bit of an argument with Narcissa. You’re definitely a bridesmaid, but she wants her sister Bellatrix as matron-of-honor. I’m trying to convince her to have you both be maids-(or matrons, whatever you like)-of-honor. I don’t think a Malfoy Lady should play second fiddle to a Black.”

“You do realize the Blacks are preeminent.”

“Well, the Lestranges aren’t,” he declared.

“Nor are the Kingsleys.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right. We Malfoys tend to make love matches, with blonds as it always turns out.” He looked over at her blonde curling hair and smiled.

“That may not always be the case,” she told him. Lucius was afraid she was thinking of Sirius Black. Hopefully, that was not the case.

“No, perhaps not. But it’s at least true for my generation.”


	13. Part the Eleventh

**Part the Eleventh—**   
_“You’re everything I need and more / It’s written all over your face / Baby, I can feel your halo / I pray it won’t fade away”_   
**—“Halo,” Beyonce**

They were lying on Draco’s bed again, exhausted from one of their duels.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Lycoris noted. “I’ve escorted Selenadora here three times in the past week, and every time the two of you choose a sofa away from everyone else and talk about goblins know what!”

“I’ve written a petition to your father,” Draco admitted, “with Father’s blessing. I’ve already broken it off with Miss Astoria.”

“Are you mad?” Lycoris asked, coming up onto his elbows. “Are you really this fickle?”

“I liked Astoria,” Draco admitted, “but she didn’t make my heart race or my breath catch. Not like Selenadora. You’ve told me how you need to be always touching the Dark Lord, like you feel like you’re dying when you’re not. I didn’t understand what you meant until now. Not until her.”

“By the gods,” Lycoris sighed. “I’ll do what I can for you on my end. I’ll even play messenger.”

“Would you?” Draco asked happily. “I would just—she’s so wonderful—you remember when she played the piano and sang the other day. It was simply beautiful.” In fact, she was having a lesson at that very moment. Music was her passion.

“You should hear her play harp,” Lycoris mused. “As soon as she found out my lover was coming for dinner, she started practicing. She said she wanted to show the House of Black off to its best advantage.”

They laughed quietly together. 

“He wouldn’t do anything to her, would he?” Draco asked carefully.

“No,” Lycoris returned emphatically. “He wouldn’t upset me in such a way. She’s a pureblood from the House of Black, anyway. I don’t see why he’d want to do anything to her.”

“He murdered her father.”

“I don’t think she knows that, to be honest,” Lycoris mused. “I’m certainly not going to tell her.”

“I hope she ends up in Slytherin, with me.” Draco blushed.

“I doubt it. She’s too honest, too open. She’s rather industrious and hardworking. You know that book Aunt Narcissa sent? She took notes and cross-referenced! Not like a Ravenclaw would, but like a Hufflepuff. It was rather strange.”

“Gods, a Hufflepuff. I’m sorry, by the way, that you’ll be in Ravenclaw with Astoria. I wouldn’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”

Lycoris just batted the air away. “I rarely see her. I doubt she’ll want to annoy a prefect who can bring down her betting ring.”

“Too true,” Draco surmised. “At least she’s at that boarding house. When I broke it off with her, I told her she could still depend on me as a reference while she was still at Hogwarts.”

“That’s something.” Lycoris sighed. “Lesson’s almost over. Better get to it. Flo is teaching Selenadora today how to serve tea.”

“Is it really that much different in France?” He shrugged. “I’ll just get that letter,” Draco said, clamoring over Lycoris who laughed.

…

Sirius just stared at the letter as Lycoris waited. “Draco Malfoy wants to court Selenadora.”

“Yes.” Samhain had made it into the library and was sitting on the corner of the desk, licking her paws.

“They’re second cousins and have known each other for three weeks.” He sighed and put the letter down.

“To be fair,” Lycoris began, “Grandfather and Grandmother were second cousins and they had you, which is only a good thing, and you and Mother were godsiblings, which is illegal. So, you can’t really object to all of that.”

“No, I suppose I can’t. Do they even court in France?”

“I have no idea,” Lycoris honestly answered.

“Well, his father’s a Death Eater.”

“He’s dark,” Lycoris pressed. “I’m dark. Uncle Regulus was dark, though why the Dark Lord killed him, I don’t know. I should really ask.”

“If you find out, please pass along the answer,” Sirius said darkly. “Selenadora deserves to know.” He sighed again. “I need Flo.”

Florence read the letter and looked at her husband. “Well, there are only two problems: consanguinity and the political leanings of the Malfoys. Then there are Selenadora’s feelings to take into account.”

“We’ve already gotten past the two main problems,” Sirius said. Florence looked at him. “I promise to tell you later, dove. But what do you think? Should we propose it to Selenadora? Do you think she’ll understand?”

“She’s a smart young lady, not like a Ravenclaw, but still intelligent. I think we should give it a shot. Draco Malfoy has always struck me as honorable. He’s Lie’s best friend and brother in all but blood. Surely that recommends him.”

“There is that,” Sirius agreed. “Okay, let’s find Selenadora.”

She was in the conservatory, a room that had been unused for decades until she had arrived. Selenadora blinked. “I thought courting could only happen if you kissed?” she asked Flo.

“Perhaps in France, but here it is an unofficial contract where you promise not to have romantic affiliations with others. There usually isn’t any kissing until an engagement.”

“Bizarre,” she admitted. “And Draco wants this with me?”

“He does,” Sirius admitted.

“He definitely fancies you,” Lycoris put in. “His heart stops whenever you’re near, I forgot the rest because it was getting a little too freaky since you’re my cousin.”

“I can get out?” she asked uncertainly.

“Yes,” Sirius said decisively. “I can tell Lucius Malfoy that you are allowed to end the courtship for whatever reason at whatever time.”

She nodded and then smiled. “I should like this then. Are you sure I can’t kiss him?”

“You really shouldn’t,” Flo explained.

Lycoris leaned close to her ear. “You can do it when no one’s looking.” She smiled at him and then impulsively hugged him.

“I am glad to have a cousin,” she admitted. “You always look out for me. You got me those books and the gowns, and you say nothing when I wear my hair down.”

Lycoris laughed. “You’re French. You’re allowed a little leeway. Now, let’s let Father write his note back to the Malfoys and we can drop by early for breakfast before lessons.”

She laughed happily.

…

“Lady Black,” Marvolo intoned as he picked up her hand and raised it to just beneath his lips before releasing it. “Lord Black.” He shook Sirius’s hand and they stared each other in the eyes.

“This is Lady Selenadora, my cousin,” Lycoris introduced. For the special occasion, she had chosen to wear white as it signaled purity and honor in France and she wore a garland of white flowers in her hair. “She comes to us from France and is Uncle Regulus’s daughter.”

“Indeed? I never knew he married,” Marvolo admitted, picking up her hand.

He then produced a bottle of champagne and handed it to Kreacher. “I hope you approve, Lady Black,” he said silkily. “Heir Lycoris told me how much he enjoyed it last summer at his celebration dinner, so I thought it appropriate to bring a bottle.”

“How thoughtful,” Flo said, pointing to his chair, which was next to Selenadora and across from Lycoris. His black and blond hair was in a high twist and the rest cascaded down his back. From the heated looks that Marvolo gave him, it was clear he approved. “You must forgive me if I do not partake. I am carrying the next Black, though that, of course, is privileged information.”

“No one will hear it from my lips,” he promised, picking up his napkin and laying it in his lap. “Now, Lady Selenadora, tell me why your mother chose such an enchanting name.”

Selenadora blushed.

Sirius wasn’t initially happy about it, but he let Lycoris show his room to Marvolo. “We can’t get too undressed,” Lycoris moaned into their kiss. He thought during dinner if he couldn’t just run his hand down Marvolo’s face, he would certainly go mad. “They’ll know.”

“Hang what they’ll know. Lord Black is well aware that I’m your lover, and I daresay after Lady Selenadora’s impassioned performance at the piano forte about two lovers, your charming stepmother knows as well.”

Lycoris laughed as Marvolo kissed a train down his neck. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“Shouldn’t I? I only speak the truth.”

They fused their mouths together, Marvolo’s hand caressing down Lycoris’s face as Lycoris’s hands were in Marvolo’s hair. Then Marvolo picked him up and carried him to the bed, where they lay, side by side, staring at the ceiling.

“You chose the stars,” Marvolo said as he looked up at the constellations painted on the ceiling. 

“Yes, there,” Lycoris pointed, “is Sirius, the dog star. And there is the constellation Draco.”

“You must love your cousin very much.”

“I think I love him most in my entire family. Is that wrong of me?”

“Hardly,” Marvolo argued. “He’s your best friend and confidante. He was the boy you found in a robe shop who took you home. How can you not love him?”

Lycoris became quiet again. “Do you mind terribly that I proposed marriage to you in such a way, in front of everyone?” He squirmed a bit until he was lying on his side with his head pillowed against Marvolo’s chest. His arm came around Lycoris, who hummed at the contact. Samhain was curled up on the bottom of the bed.

“Hardly. I gave you my ring, if you remember. That was a proposal, as far as I am concerned. Do you know if they’ve met your demands?”

“There’s a special hearing in September. I’d brief you on it, but I’ve refused any official duties until my demands have been met.”

“How very Slytherin of you,” Marvolo complimented. “I’ll write to Scrimgeour and ask him about the delay. I’ll let him sweat a bit for having to explain the reason. It may help push it through a little bit faster.”

“Uncle Lucius and even Father are seeing to it. You should hear Father on the subject. He’s angry that it’s you, but he says that I’m a Black, and when a heart as black as ours decides, there’s no returning.”

“What an interesting choice of phrase.” Marvolo turned to the side and picked up the picture of Sirius and Lux. “You do look like your mother. It’s nice to see that your parents were happy together.”

“I wish yours had been,” Lycoris soothed. “If I ever found your father, I’d throw every dark curse I had at him.”

“I murdered him when I was going into my sixth year,” Marvolo admitted, “along with his filthy Muggle parents. I framed my uncle who had abused my mother her entire life. He went to Azkaban for it and, in the Muggle world, the gardener was initially blamed. He was let out, though. I saw to that.”

“I’d like to see their graves,” Lycoris murmured. “I saw James and Lily’s. I wish there were some curse I could put on the stones so that they would crumble, even if it were replaced.”

“I can take you,” Marvolo promised, “and I’ll research curses like that. We’ll find something horrible to do, I promise.”

Lycoris kissed directly over Marvolo’s heart. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he murmured.

Running his hand through Lycoris’s long hair, Marvolo whispered, “I think it’s the other way round.”

…

“Where’s Lycoris?” Selenadora asked as she walked into the library. She rarely went in, but it seemed like Aunt Florence had set up coffee and Uncle Sirius was also there.

“He’s with the Malfoys,” Sirius carefully explained. “Little Io is rather attached, and Lucius Malfoy promised her she could get her familiar today so she asked Lycoris along. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, of course not,” she answered carefully. “I know I’m rather new to them.”

“I’ve been working on the tapestry,” Sirius explained. “It has some rather odd magic put on it. It hasn’t been recognizing you or your mother because she has creature blood about eight generations back. However, it would be nice to know your full name so we can also put that on there.”

“D’accord. Selenadora Astra Black. Does that help?”

Florence smiled at her. “What a beautiful name for a Black. Your parents chose well.—We did, however, need to discuss your father.”

“Papa? Why?”

“Have you heard of the Dark Lord, Selenadora?” Sirius asked carefully, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Yes. Maman explained about how Papa was a Death Eater and was killed in the war.”

“He wasn’t just killed,” Sirius explained carefully. “We don’t know why, but You-Know-Who murdered him.”

Selenadora was suddenly very still. “Does he—does he want to murder me?”

“No!” Sirius quickly put in. “He favors the House of Black. He’s very fond of your cousin Lycoris.”

“He is?”

“Florence, it’s complicated,” Sirius tried to explain. “He came and visited Coris when he was ill just after the rumors started first surfacing abut his return.”

Flo didn’t seem at all mollified.

Sirius took a deep breath. “My point is that while I fight against him, the Blacks are favored by the Dark Lord. You have nothing to worry about from either side.”

Selenadora was confused. “I think—I think I left a book—“ She put down her coffee and left the room.

Florence looked at Sirius. “He’s been in this house?”

“My child was ill, Flo,” Sirius said a little testily. “He was convinced he was going to be murdered. I sought Malfoy for help and he brought You-Know-Who, which was the right thing to do. He assured Coris that he had no wish to harm him and he would never harm a Black heir.”

“You’re in the Order of the Phoenix! He killed your own brother!”

“Yes!” Sirius agreed. “But he’s fond of Lycoris! He’s even named him ambassador in the war. The only reason Coris isn’t going between the Order and wherever the Death Eaters keep camp is because he’s demanded that he be allowed to marry another man—Lord Riddle—and sire heirs as a metamorphmagus. And Malfoy, the Dark Lord, and I are going to push this through the Wizengamot because we all hold Coris in high regard and it could mean the destruction of the House of Black otherwise.”

“I could have other sons,” Florence interjected. “It wouldn’t mean—“

“Do you honestly think that You-Know-Who wouldn’t destroy everyone if Coris didn’t get his way? The man is obsessed! I say ‘fond’ because it’s the nicer way of putting it, when really he has wrapped all of his hopes and interests in Coris that I doubt he’d let the House continue if Coris didn’t get exactly what he wanted.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because,” Sirius said, deflating. “I’ve looked him exactly in the eyes and that’s what I’ve seen. Lycoris will get his husband and his heirs, and will possibly end up head of the Wizengamot or Minister of Magic one day.”

Florence sighed. “You try to keep those under your charge safe, but in the end, it seems that you can’t.”

“No, you can’t,” Sirius agreed, taking her hand and kissing it. “Do you mind having an extra step-child, as it were?”

“I don’t mind having Selenadora around in the least,” she commented. “It’s nice to have more joy and laughter in this house. I’m just sorry we had to tell her about Regulus.”

“She had to know. Before Hogwarts.”

“Yes,” Florence agreed. “She did have to know.”

…

She received an owl at about quarter to seven. Rosa immediately recognized the handwriting. She smiled to herself and opened up the envelope. What she saw surprised her.

It was easy to sneak out of the house and, surprisingly, no one seemed to notice when she went into the church alone. Rosa was only surprised that it was still open. “Master Roger?” she called as she walked down the pews, looking about in the gloom. “Are you here?”

“Mr. Davies,” a haunted voice to her left said, and she turned to see a hunched form at the end of one of the pews.

Rosa immediately ran to him. “What happened?” she cried, as she cradled his face in her hands. It was tear-streaked and she brushed away the tear tracks. “How can you be? But your father is in good health!”

“Pegasus riding accident earlier today,” Roger admitted. “I just, Miss Rosa.” He surged upward, taking her by the waist and kissed her hard.

Rosa breathed in deeply, but she kissed him back, stroking where his hair met his neck, and let him kiss her again and again and again, because she knew that was what he needed right now.

“It’s okay,” she whispered into his ear, when he pulled away and began to kiss down the side of her face. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

But then his hands were pulling up her robes and hiking up her legs around his waist, and she began to squirm away.

“Mr. Davies!” she cried to shock, but he only kissed her again.

“Roger,” he begged, but she pulled away harder.

“Roger, this is not—you cannot—you’re not thinking straight!”

For a moment he lost his grip on her and she fell back against a pew, hitting her head. “Rosa!” he cried, lifting her up and cradling her in his arms. “By the gods, Rosa!”

She moaned and he took out his wand and whispered a spell. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up into the gloom to see his concerned face. “I—I should go.” She shakily stood and smoothed down her robes, which had become mussed.

“But, Rosa, please—“

“So you can molest me again?” she asked angrily. “You’re the Head of your House, Roger. Treat me like a lady of mine.” She stormed out and breathed in the warm summer air when she hit the streets.

When she entered the house, Milly was, of course, hanging about. “Where have you been?”

“Nowhere,” she responded. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“But the Muggles!”

“Aren’t they just dreadful?” she agreed. “I really have a letter to write, Milly. Perhaps Stepmother is about and you can sew with her.” Rosa didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she went to her room and slammed the door behind her, trying to keep the tears from streaming down her face.

…

Lycoris walked through Riddle House as if he were in a dream. He had the afternoon off and, after leaving a note for Flo saying he’d gone to visit a friend, he’d floo’ed here. He only hoped that Marvolo was about.

The second floor was quiet. Lycoris couldn’t even hear any house elves. He thought about calling for one, but he didn’t want to be accused of intruding. Finally, when he reached the third floor, he found a study with the door partially open. He knocked.

“Coris?” Marvolo asked in surprise as he stuck his head in. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“I have a question—for Selenadora. She thinks because I am ambassador I can find out any information, and it would set her mind at ease.” He came over and kissed Marvolo’s lips lightly.

“Whatever is it?” he asked, stroking Lycoris’s cheek. 

“It’s just—she’s afraid—you killed her father.”

“I did,” Marvolo agreed. “Or rather, an elaborate trap I had set killed him. I didn’t do it personally.”

“And this trap?”

“It was set against intruders,” Marvolo told him. “I really can’t be more specific. It was nothing personal. I wish her no ill will. She’s a Black, after all. I think I’ve explained how fond I am of that family and, if I’m not mistaken, she’s courting that cousin of yours, which pleases me greatly.”

“It does?”

“Blacks and Malfoys are two of my strongest supporters. I also like to see the Malfoys getting what they want, and the Blacks are an excellent choice. I thought so when Lucius married Narcissa, and I think so now in this current case.”

Lycoris nodded. “I’ll tell her about Regulus. I’ll make it sound like an accident, so she really isn’t afraid.”

“If you like.” Marvolo stood and reached out to pull Lycoris close to him. “I have a gift for you. I didn’t have a chance to give it to you at the dinner.”

“You really do spoil me,” Lycoris noted.

However, Marvolo was already pulling open a drawer. He brought out a leather bound book that tied in the front with parchment for pages. “I had this specially made,” he said. “You’ll notice your name printed on the upper right hand corner.” He showed it to Lycoris.

“A diary?” He took it and felt the roughness of the leather.

“A two-way diary,” Marvolo said, taking out a similar diary that was in darker leather, his own name emblazoned on it. “If you ever need to talk and can’t get to me through the floo, I’m always here for you, Coris.”

Tears formed in Lycoris’s eyes and he flung himself in Marvolo’s arms. “You know me too well,” he murmured.

“I’m your lover,” Marvolo answered. “Shouldn’t I know you better than anyone in wizerdom?” He kissed him softly. “Now, I notice you like to wear robes that are laced up in the front.”

“What of it?” he responded cheekily.

“It’s just you know how I love to undo them and then restring them when it’s time for us to part.”

“Well, why don’t we do that then, fiancé mine?” Lycoris teased.

Marvolo kissed him hungrily and then swept him up in his arms.

“Soon I’ll be too tall for you to do that. I’m already nearly six feet.”

“Let me enjoy it while I can,” Marvolo whispered before stealing another kiss and walking out of the room. “And I get to take that thong I gave you out of your hair.”

“You like it,” Lycoris insisted.

“Of course I do. It means you’re mine.” They kissed languidly again.

“You forget the ring.”

They were now approaching the room. “How could I? I placed it on your hand so the world could see that I would find a way to marry you and you, my clever Ravenclaw, found the way without me.” Then he threw Lycoris onto the bed, who was laughing happily.

…

Hermia was reading her maths reader, walking through the grass toward her favorite tree. She heard voices nearby but she didn’t think anything of it. 

The grass swished around her ankles and she just enjoyed the summer day. She’d had her hair cut the day before into a short pixie cut, and she couldn’t wait to show it to Sydney—Reverend Chambers, that is. Hermia wouldn’t see him until the next day, but she was hoping he would like it. She thought it made her look prettier and less of a mess. If only she had such a haircut at Hogwarts, then maybe—but no. Heir Lycoris always hated ‘Mudbloods’ and she had Sydney now.

The voices got closer and she looked up just as she came to the tree. She was startled. There, at the base of the tree, was Sydney with the lady who came down from the city with the raven hair. They were both dressed informally, their shoes and socks off, sitting on a blanket and enjoying a picnic.

“Oh, hello,” the woman said. “We didn’t realize you were here.”

Sydney looked up and visibly startled.

“Yes,” Hermia said carefully. “I usually study under this tree, but I can see that it’s occupied. It’s my mistake. Ma’am. Reverend Chambers.” She turned to go, but then strong hands came around her arms and she was turned around to see the earnest look of Sydney. “I should go,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean—I mean I thought that we—but that clearly doesn’t matter—“

“Amanda,” he called. “I want you to meet Hermia Grange.”

This Amanda came up and looked at Hermia. “Hello,” she said, offering her hand. “Amanda Greensborough. Syd and I grew up together. I just came down because he’s performing my wedding and I have so many last requests.”

“Oh,” Hermia startled. “Do you have a ring?” she asked stupidly.

A hand was thrust under her eyes and she admired the large stone appropriately.

“Why don’t you join us?” Amanda said kindly. “You are the Hermia, aren’t you? The one who’s stealing our Sydney away?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“She is,” Sydney said proudly. He led her to the blanket where he sat her down. “Take off your shoes. It’s nice to feel the grass.”

“All right,” she said hesitantly before doing just that.

…

“It’s a Muggle village,” Sirius explained as they walked through the streets in their best approximation of Muggle clothing. “We were trying to hide, you see, and Lux so enjoyed Haye-on-Wye.”

“It is beautiful,” Lycoris admitted. “And I usually hate everything Muggle.”

They padded down a lane to a graveyard. “I found her here after I got out and you were at Hogwarts. I scoured the Malfoy and Kingsley cemeteries but she was nowhere. But here she is.”

The stone was simple. It simply read, “Lux Kingsley.”

“That can’t be right,” Lycoris muttered before whispering a charm. It was one of the ones Marvolo had found in his search to destroy the Potter graves. Now, the grave read, “Lux Black: devoted wife and mother.”

“I think she would have liked that,” Sirius admitted.

“I do, too,” Lycoris said with a smile. Laying down the bouquet of roses he had brought, Lycoris traced the gravestone. “I love you, Mother,” he whispered and then, with only a quick look back, he and Sirius left the graveyard in case they were seen.


	14. Part the Twelfth

**Part the Twelfth—**   
_“I’m not asleep, I’m up for the fight / Into the magic / And I don’t want the concrete / I am alive when it comes to the tragic”_   
**—“Animal,” Kesha**

Lycoris first learned of it by owl. It came the day before he went to Hogwarts, just as he was sitting down to luncheon, and he opened it. He breathed in quickly and handed it to Sirius before rushing up from his place and out of the room.

“Lie?” Flo called, but Sirius just smirked.

“He did it,” he exclaimed. “Coris received a special dispensation from the Wizengamot to marry Lord Riddle next August and all children he bears will be legitimate Blacks.” He slammed the paper down. “That boy really is a Slytherin in disguise.”

“Well, I’m happy for him,” Selenadora said carefully. “C’est trés bon. Love is to be celebrated.”

“I suppose he’s gone to write Lord Riddle now,” Flo mused. “I wonder if this will make The Prophet.”

“Probably not,” Sirius confessed. “They’ll want to keep this hushed up. They will probably announce his position as ambassador, however. It’s the only reason why I let him keep that horrible hairstyle.”

“I think it looks nice on him,” Selenadora stated. “Men in France wear it quite short, but it suits.”

“Yes,” Sirius agreed. “I suppose it does.”

…

“However did you manage Slytherin?” Lycoris asked as he came up to his two cousins at the Opening Feast.

“I told you she wouldn’t be in Hufflepuff,” Draco crowed. “Though I was surprised.” He leaned forward and kissed Selenadora’s temple, much to the table’s shock.

“So?” Lycoris pressed.

“It’s my hair,” she answered. “I refuse to conform and have cunningly gotten everyone to agree to let me wear it the French way.”

Draco and Lycoris shared a look before laughing.

However, the hair debate was not over. The next morning, during her free period, Selenadora was called into Professor Snape’s office.

“Miss Black,” he greeted, indicating a chair. “I would like to personally welcome you to Slytherin. I knew your father, not well, of course, but he seemed like a fine wizard.”

“Thank you, monsieur.”

He paused. “I understand you wear your hair in the French tradition.”

“Yes,” she answered carefully.

“Unfortunately, it is against Hogwarts regulation to wear coronets, garlands, and other pieces of ornamentation in one’s hair.”

They stared at each other.

“I have,” Snape continued, “found a solution to your problem.” He held out an old book. “It seems there is an old French tradition, that has mainly fallen to disuse, where maidens braid twelve strands of hair, leaving the rest loose, and create a half coronet by using the front two braids and attaching them at the back of the head. I realize this is not exactly the same, but it possesses the same symbolism.”

“Thank you, monsieur,” she said carefully, taking the book.

“There are spells in there to aid you in the creation of the braids. I will not make you change your hair today, but I hope to see it braided tomorrow.”

“Of course, professor. I thank you for finding an alternative. Not many wizards would be so solicitous.”

Snape inclined his head, his greasy black hair forming a wave around his face. “I seek to aid all of my Slytherins, when I can.—Now, another matter. Your cousins Heir Draco and Heir Lycoris.”

“Oui?”

“I have received letters from both Lord Black and Lord Malfoy. You are courting Heir Draco, yes? Has it been explained to you the differences between Continental traditions and English ones?”

“Lady Black has been kind.”

“Good. I did not wish to have that discussion. It leads to awkwardness.” He gave her a tight lipped smile. “Would you, perhaps, when you see Heir Lycoris, tell him I wish to see him? There is no hurry, it can wait a day or so. Tell him it has to do with business.”

“Business?”

“The Dark Lord has many agents and many avenues of communication, as I’m sure you can appreciate, Lady Selenadora, given your own father’s history.—Might I make a suggestion?”

She looked at him warily. “Your position in Slytherin makes you suspect to Professor Dumbledore, as does your courtship with Heir Draco. However, your close relationship with Heir Lycoris gives you neutrality. You are practically siblings, if I understand the situation correctly.”

“I have never had a brother before, but I would imagine it is true.”

Snape nodded, his lank hair bobbing with his head. “Dumbledore will wish to exploit you. He has attempted to exploit me for the past fifteen years, and it is far from pleasant. You have not been versed in English politics, unlike your brother Lycoris. Let him play the game for the both of you. There is no harm in it. He will keep you safe from both factions.”

“Isn’t that the name of the Headmaster?”

“He is very active politically,” Snape told her. “He cannot use the Malfoys against Heir Lycoris. Lord Black has also made it perfectly clear that his son is not to be approached given his history as a stolen child. However, Dumbledore would seek to use you to get close to Lycoris. The Dark Lord wishes neutrality. He does not want harm to come to Heir Lycoris. He is rather fond of the boy.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“You have no express reason, except that I helped you.” He pointed to the book. “I offer aid and a warning. You are new to this country. I do not wish for you to be exploited.”

Selenadora looked down at the book again. “I wonder if Draco will like it.”

“That I cannot say,” Snape commented truthfully. “You will have to ascertain that for yourself, Lady Selenadora.”

They smiled at each other. They had reached an understanding.

…

Lycoris walked through the halls, watching the passing students. He had so few friends, he realized. He was friendly with some of the wizards on the Quidditch team, they hadn’t lost a single game since he’d joined his first year, and he had Draco and the girls. There was now Selenadora, but she was always with Draco. Marvolo wasn’t here and Rosa… he didn’t know what to do about Rosa.

They were to have rounds together, for some strange reason. Usually he was paired with Draco but Rosa had detention her usual time so there had been a switch.

“Heir Lycoris,” she greeted, and he nodded his head.

“How is your new stepmother?”

“With child,” she answered. “It’s all rather quick, I know, but I am hoping for a boy.”

“That is indeed wonderful news. Now the title can pass to him.”

“It’s strange though,” she confessed. “I’m practically old enough to be his mother.”

“True, you’ll be almost seventeen when he is born,” Lycoris mused. “Still, I’m sure he’ll be a welcome addition to the House of Vane. How does your sister Romilda take the new addition?”

“Oh, she was off with Roland all summer,” Rosa said petulantly. “To be honest, I have no idea where they went, or how he got the time off. He’s an Unspeakable, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” Lycoris admitted. “I visited several graves over the summer.”

“Really?” she asked in obvious interest. “Whose?”

“My kidnappers. I cursed their stones so they would always crumble. I thought it was a fitting revenge. Then I saw my fiancé’s family’s graves. The grass had rather taken over those, to be honest, but we left them as they were. Finally, I saw Mother’s for the first time. She was buried away from her birth family in a small village under her maiden name. I left her roses.”

“How beautiful. But did you say ‘fiancée’?”

“Yes. I’m getting married in August,” he confided. “Mum’s the word.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Anyone I know?”

Lycoris shook his head. “I’d be rather surprised if you did.” Of course, they had met that time she had followed him up the stairs at the Three Broomsticks.

“Well, I’m not getting married anytime soon,” she confided. “The night Mr. Davies’ father died, he came to see me and we had a terrible row. I haven’t heard from him since. Then again, I accused him of acting improperly.”

“How improperly?”

“Like a common Muggle, though I didn’t say that out loud.” She grimaced.

“That must have been frightening. I hope you were able to stop him, Miss Rosa.”

She nodded, tears in her eyes. “I hit my head when I was trying to get away and it stopped everything before he could do much of anything. He healed me, of course, but I then just walked away. I think he was acting out of grief, if I’m entirely honest. He’s not one for ungentlemanly behavior.”

Lycoris only hummed. He didn’t know Roger Davies well enough to say either way.

“But you have a cousin from France. She’s creating quite a stir with her hair. So are you, if I’m honest. However did you make it blond?”

Lycoris ignored the last comment. “Yes, she’s taken to braiding it. Something about purity just like the coronets and garlands. I really don’t keep up with French fashion trends. Still, I think it suits her. Draco seems to like it.”

“It must be freeing to have one’s hair down,” Rosa mused. “I love to brush my hair every night when the other girls have gone to sleep. Silly of me, but I do love it.”

“It’s not silly at all,” Lycoris bumped her shoulder. “Friends again?”

“Friends,” she agreed.

…

“Hermione Jean Granger!” Hermia turned in shock and found herself slapped hard. Her hand immediately cradled her cheek and she found herself looking into the irate eyes of her mother.

“Mum!” she gasped. “What are you doing in New Zealand?”

“Elissa needed a change after everything you’ve done to her. How dare you show your face in public.”

Hermia and Sydney were in the city to speak to the Bishop about their upcoming marriage later that autumn, and he was now staring at the two women in shock.

“You know I’ve been exiled,” she said quietly. “They took my name, my wand, my records—“

“And they denied us a trial!” Jean Granger screeched. “They won’t even treat Elissa anymore because she’s a Muggle. Did you know that?”

“How was I supposed to know? They kept me in a cage and said I’d get twenty years if it went to trial or I could get out and come to New Zealand. What would you have done?”

“I would have stood up like a woman and admitted my faults. I would have told the court why I had tortured my sister for years!”

“But I didn’t!” Hermia exclaimed. “It was a set up! It was Lycoris Black and, I think, You-Know-Who! They’re lovers!”

“Lycoris Black is nothing but a sweet boy and I doubt You-Know-Who, from what you’ve told me, would ever take a lover, let alone a sixteen-year-old boy, even if his father is Lord whatever.”

Hermia crossed her arms. “I—didn’t—do—it,” she said resolutely. “I know you don’t believe me, but I swear on my maj—“ she glanced at Sydney “—honor that I didn’t do it.”

“Then why does Elissa say you did?”

“I don’t know,” Hermia admitted. “Maybe they changed her memories. You can do that.”

“You’re grasping at straws.”

“Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever hurt a single creature? I won’t even let you kill spiders!”

Jean Granger breathed in through her nose. “Who is that?” she asked, pointing to Sydney.

“Why? Do you want to yell at him too for simply existing?”

“Is he—like you?”

“No,” Hermia answered quietly. “I haven’t seen anyone since I accepted the deal.—From Professor Snape of all people.”

“Then who is he?”

Sydney came up and offered his hand. “Reverend Sydney Chambers,” he offered. “Your daughter’s fiancé.”

“Watch out,” Jean said. “She’ll poison you, too.”

“I didn’t—“

But Jean Granger just walked away.

Hermia didn’t even realize she was crying until she found herself in Sydney’s arms, breathing in deeply, her hand clutching his clerical robes. “I swear I didn’t do it,” she whispered. “You have to believe me.”

“Is there even a motive?” he asked.

“No, none. I love Elissa dearly. She’s my other half—and that’s gone now.”

“No,” he reasoned. “It’s not. We’re going to be married. I’ll be your other half, Hermione.”

She laughed-cried. “Hermia. I’m officially ‘Hermia’ now. Hermione died when she left Britain.”

“Hermia then,” he agreed. “Now let’s dry your eyes and not keep the Bishop waiting.

They smiled at each other.

…

Sirius had taken to using the study. He’d gone into politics once he was freed from Azkaban. Since he’d married Flo he’d been less involved with the Order of the Phoenix and more interested in his seat on the Wizengamot. Dumbledore wasn’t happy about it. There was something about the whole Hermione Granger episode that just bothered Sirius. If Dumbledore couldn’t see something so heinous under his own nose, how could Sirius possibly trust him?

Before he’d had a single picture on his desk. It was, of course, of Isabelle Rosier. He’d never put up one of Flo because Lycoris didn’t want his mother’s memory dishonored. Then, when Lycoris had discovered his mother was in fact Lux Kingsley, all of the pictures of Isabelle had been put away in a drawer to only be taken out for the occasional Rosier visit. Now, Sirius had the picture that had once belonged to Lucius Malfoy.

He had others, of course. They were in a warded escetoire in his room. Florence fortunately left well enough alone. If it wasn’t her possession, she didn’t pry. If she needed something, she’d ask Kreacher. 

This picture, though, he remembered when it was taken. It was on the day that Lux graduated and Sirius had just finished his sixth year at Hogwarts. Lux had been in Ravenclaw and so was wearing blue robes, her golden locks toppled on her head elegantly, her violet eyes shining. He was in gray robes and he was holding her around the waist, her head on his shoulder. Lux was looking up at him, smiling and laughing, and he was smirking down at her.

It was so obvious they were in love. Only a fool couldn’t see it.

“Who is she?” Flo’s soft voice asked, and he turned to see her standing just behind him.

“That’s Lux,” he responded. “She died just after the war.”

“She looks like Lord Malfoy,” she noticed.

“She was his niece,” he admitted, “and my godsister. Lycoris has decided he doesn’t want to see any pictures of Isabelle so I thought I’d get one out of me and Lux.”

“Yes, I remember you mentioning that he didn’t want her to be spoken of at all. Something about her being a Death Eater spy.”

“They’re only rumors,” Sirius said quickly, “but Coris takes that sort of thing seriously. He doesn’t like the idea that he might be the product of someone spying on the Order.”

“And he still takes this position of ambassador?”

“I think it’s intellectual curiosity more than anything,” he admitted. “Hence his idea of being a Corpsier.” He sighed. “Coris also does know people on both sides as well. This way he can talk to them openly and honestly without fear of consequences.”

Florence hesitated. “Do you think—now that Lie is angry with Isabelle—that he might allow—“

“A photograph?” Sirius guessed. He really didn’t think it would fly. “I can always ask. It’s a complicated relationship he has with his mother, you must understand that. It’s a complicated relationship that he has with me. He truly views Lucius Malfoy as his father, and yet here I am.”

“I am sorry,” she whispered, kissing his head. “I know how hard it must be.”

“He was stolen,” Sirius admitted. “By people I trusted. All because—“ he sighed. Florence looked at him, expecting more, but Sirius couldn’t say it. “I don’t know their exact reasoning,” he lied. “But they stole him, and then they died and he was left with magic hating muggles who neglected and abused him. The Malfoys were a godsend. They truly were. They brought my son back to magic, and eventually they brought my son back to me.” He looked into Flo’s blue eyes. “I hope this one’s a girl.”

“Do you now? I would think you’d like another boy to teach how to fly.”

“No,” he decided. “A girl as beautiful as her mother, who will make me play unicorns with her.”

“That will be a sight,” she laughed. “She’ll probably do the same with Lie.”

“Probably. She’ll have the Black men wrapped around her little finger.”

“A Slytherin then,” Flo decided. “However, Lycoris won’t be here for most of her childhood. He’ll be living with Lord Riddle once he’s graduated from Hogwarts, I imagine.”

“Yes, I must speak to Lord Riddle. I imagine he lives somewhere, and I’d rather like a tour of the place. Malfoy’s probably already let Lycoris over there unsupervised. He’s probably of the belief that a young man can take a lover without any supervision.”

“Lie is perfectly capable of looking after himself, and Lord Riddle is clearly in love with Lycoris. He may have spoken a great deal to everyone to get to know us, but he would steal looks at Lie that spoke volumes.”

“Yes, I noticed that, too,” Sirius admitted. “It’s all any parent can hope for. Funny that he’s a half-blood, though.”

“Not a word,” Florence warned. “You know how Lycoris is about blood purity. You know how I am, for that matter.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to revise my opinions, given everything that happened to Lycoris.” Sirius sighed and looked at the picture of him and Lux. She was so beautiful, always so beautiful. What he wouldn’t give to hold her in his arms as they watched their son read one of his books. Being married to Flo just didn’t compare. She was a wonderful woman, she was a good wife and would make an excellent mother, but she wasn’t Lux. No one would ever take Lux’s place.

“I’m not simple,” Florence said softly. Sirius looked at her. “She’s some relation of Lycoris. You can see it in her face.”

“It’s her grandmother,” Sirius lied. “She was a Rosier.”

“Interesting.” She cocked her head. “I came in to tell you I was out to tea with my elder sister. I’ll see you before dinner.”

He took her hand and kissed it. “Enjoy yourself, my dear, and don’t take anything from her. I know you were married much later, but you caught a Lord—don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been thinking since we first met.”

She laughed softly and then was swishing out of his office.

No, Sirius decided. Florence certainly could never replace Lux.

…

Lycoris sat in the chair, not taking the scrolled parchment Dumbledore was offering him. His long black and blond hair was in a twist down his back and his eyes were their usual gray. “I’m sorry, Headmaster, but I don’t believe you understand. I’m currently in the middle of a Herbology lecture.”

“Yes, but I have a message for Lord Voldemort.”

He closed his eyes. Such blatant disrespect truly bothered him. “I am a student. I may be your ambassador but I am a student. My studies come first. I think you’ll find the Dark Lord agrees with me. He is most anxious I make Head Boy, and I can’t do that if you pull me out of my classes to play errand boy. Now, I suggest you keep that until Friday night, by which time I should have a portkey to the Dark Lord’s headquarters and then I can take it to him.”

“Surely, m’boy, you can use the floo.”

“Floos can be tracked,” he stated. “Personally made portkeys cannot.” He sighed.

“I’m afraid Voldemort really must get it today.”

“Then I will do everything in my power to collect it after class,” he stated, standing. “Do you expect a reply?”

“Within the next week, m’boy.”

Lycoris breathed out. “Headmaster, at this moment, I am not your student. I am either ‘Heir Lycoris Black,’ as befits my station in life, or I am ‘Ambassador Black.’ Do not try to denigrate what I am doing for you and your friends by emphasizing our age difference.”

“Frankly, Ambassador Black, you were not my choice.”

“Then perhaps you should not have agreed to me, then,” he stated firmly. “However, you obviously did.”

“Why did Voldemort propose your name?”

Lycoris looked into his eyes. “Don’t try legilimancy on me, old man. I was taught well by my masters. I would remind you that I am an Ambassador and what you just attempted could be viewed as an act of war.”

“We are at war.”

“Not with me,” Lycoris reminded him. “As I hope you would protect my honor if the Dark Lord attacked me, he would protect mine if you did the same. I would also remind you, Headmaster, that my father is a member of your Order of the Phoenix. So were my kidnappers.”

“Your kidnappers,” Dumbledore said quietly. “Sirius never did tell me about them.”

“They were the vilest of creatures,” Lycoris supplied. “I do not believe in the muggle idea of Hell, but for them I hope that they are burning in a fiendfyre that will never be extinguished.” He stood. “My next lesson begins in ten minutes. Until this evening, professor.”

He then swept from the room.

…

Marvolo slammed Lycoris against a wall, his lips mere inches from Lycoris’s. “Is it true?”

“That we’re officially engaged according to the Wizengamot?” Lycoris teased.

Eyes flashed brown-red and Lycoris moved in to claim the lips. Marvolo moaned and Lycoris felt the hands around his wrist weaken. He surged forward and grasped the sides of Marvolo’s face, kissing him again and again and again.

“I want children,” Marvolo admitted. “I never did until you told me we could have children together.”

Lycoris laughed, kissing him again, his back pressed against the wall and Marvolo crowding him so they were pressed closely together.

“Give me a few years out of Hogwarts,” he begged. “And then we can decide if we want boys or girls and in what order. Being a metamorphmagus has its perks.”

“A boy first for your name,” Marvolo whispered against the shell of his ear. “We’ll name him after your mother. Lucian perhaps.”

“That’s not a very Black name.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Marvolo murmured, kissing the skin at Lycoris’s jaw. “We can give him the middle name of Sirius if you want.”

Lycoris tipped his head back and laughed. “We can’t use Lucian. It’s too like Uncle Lucius’s name. I don’t want to create supposed tensions between my two fathers.”

“We’ll be blatant then,” Marvolo decided. “Lux Sirius.”

“We need an ‘M’ like the Gaunts,” Lycoris argued.

“Lux Monocerus. It’s the unicorn,” Marvolo suggested. “We’ll have the ‘M’, the stars, and your mother. It will be perfect.”

“If you say so. Just kiss me.”

“Only if I can take this dreadful Hogwarts uniform off of you.”

Lycoris laughed.

They were lying in bed and Marvolo was reading the document Lycoris had brought. Severus had been able to get Lycoris a portkey to and from the Manor and he could use the floo from there, if he needed to.

“This is utter rubbish.”

“Hmm,” Lycoris hummed. “If you say so.”

Marvolo kissed the top of his head. Lycoris’s long hair fanned out around him, covering him down to past his elbow in thick strands that curled. He was still rather fond of it. He knew he had Dumbledore and Scrimgeour guessing as to why he had lengthened it and colored it so strangely. 

“I’ll write something up before the morning so they won’t pull you out of lessons. I’ll also write a scathing commentary on such behavior. I’ll remind them how rewarding being Head Boy is.”

Silence enveloped them. 

“Do Death Eaters come here?” Lycoris asked.

“No. Only a few people know of Riddle House. I want to make it our home once we’re married.”

“As long as I don’t have to kiss you with a snake face.”

“Agreed,” Marvolo said, kissing him. “I thank the old gods for the day Lucius came and found me and told me his nephew was ill for fear that I might kill him.”

“You would have had me marry Rosa Vane,” Lycoris argued.

“At first,” he agreed, “but you know I soon couldn’t give you up.”

“Well, thanks to the Wizengamot, you’ll never have to.”

Marvolo smiled and kissed Lycoris. “When I rule Britain, I will put a coronet on your brow.”

Lycoris looked at him intently, before he reached up and traced Marvolo’s lips. “Sometimes I think this is all a dream, that I’ll wake up in my cupboard and find myself Harry Potter once again.” A tear escaped his purple eye and Marvolo caught it with his thumb.

“That was a nightmare,” Marvolo whispered. “The love and acceptance you have found is something that a scared little boy in a cupboard couldn’t comprehend enough to dream.”

“Promise?”

“I was once a scared boy in an orphanage,” Marvolo murmured, kissing Lycoris again. “I would know.”


	15. Part the Thirteenth

**Part the Thirteenth—** _  
“I was so afraid / of going under / But now / the weight of the world / Feels like nothing, no, nothing”  
_ **—“On the Way Down,” Ryan Cabrera**

“What,” Dumbledore demanded at the next Order meeting, “is your son about?”

Sirius hesitated. “What do you mean?”

“He dresses his hair in the most outrageous fashion for a boy his age, he won’t say anything about Voldemort or his plans, he won’t even give away his location!”

“You forget, Dumbledore,” Remus said, “he’s an ambassador. It’s not his place to be a spy.”

Sirius sat down at the table. “Anyway, I have an announcement to make. I’m pulling out of the Order.”

There was a dead silence.

“But, Sirius,” Tonks said, “don’t you want to see You-Know-Who destroyed?”

“It’s not about that anymore,” Sirius said. “I have a son, a niece, and will soon have more children on the way. I will not leave them orphans or my wife a widow so soon after our marriage. I have less than a year left with Coris, now that he’s decided to get married in August. I should have had his entire childhood, but I didn’t. I want to see my grandchildren.”

“In a world Voldemort controls?” Dumbledore asked darkly.

“That’s a world where Lycoris is favored, just as you should favor him. He’s doing you a great favor, and yet as far as I can tell you treat him like dirt. I wouldn’t be surprised if he gave it all up and left you to the mercies of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named without any warning or diplomacy at all.” He stood up and leaned against his hands. “No, it is done. The House of Black now remains neutral in this conflict.”

He stood and patted Remus’s shoulder. “Give them hell for me,” he whispered.

Then, passing by Severus, he murmured, “Make sure the Dark Lord treats him well.”

Severus inclined his head. It was not an admission, per se, but a recognition that there was some sort of relationship between Lycoris and the Dark Lord.

Sirius then swept from the room.

…

She’d received a note. Rosa was quite surprised by it, but she read it anyway. It seemed Mr. Davies wanted to meet her. She honestly wondered if she should. It was true that she had no beau at present, though that was hardly her fault (Master Neville Longbottom was hanging about, but even she had standards), and she did still care for Roger, but what he’d done to her…

Still…

In the end she met him at the Leaky Cauldron. He’d brought chocolate and had two butterbeers waiting for them, just like their first date, and a small smile played on her lips. “Mr. Davies,” she greeted, and the light in his blue eyes dimmed a little.

“I thought I asked you to call me ‘Roger’.” 

“That was before you attempted—what you attempted.” She sighed and took a sip of her butterbeer. “Thank you for this.”

“Would you like a chocolate frog? I know how much you like them, Rosa.”

She sighed. “I came because I was curious and this is a public place,” she stated. “What do you want, Mr. Davies? I can’t make you out.”

He made to reach for her hand and then seemed to think better of it. “I—wanted to apologize. I was not myself, Rosa. Please, understand that. I was kissing you, and it was more than I ever could have dreamed, so I pushed for more. I wasn’t thinking how it could ruin your honor. It was thoughtless and careless of me. I realize that. I also would never want to make you uncomfortable. It’s no excuse, but losing Father was such a shock, I just wanted to be with the woman I love in every way possible.”

She paused. “You’re saying?”

“Yes, Rosa. I’m in love with you.—I was hoping to ask for your hand at Christmas, if that suits. I just imagine you in a gown of red with a Yule Tree.”

“And you’ll wear dark blue for the season,” she planned. “Truly, Roger?”

He took her hand and actually kissed it, a sign of true devotion among purebloods. “I swear I will love you and never dishonor you again, Rosa Vane,” he whispered quietly.

She smiled at him and then murmured, “I think I’ll take that chocolate frog.” Then, like their first date, they did nothing but eat chocolate and drink butterbeer, a disgusting combination that had them laughing.

…

Lycoris was wearing a nightshirt. Marvolo strangely favored them and Lycoris wasn’t going to gainsay the man. It meant they could walk about Riddle House together in between their amorous activities without having to get dressed. 

He looked down at the plans. “I don’t know why you’re showing me these.”

“I don’t want you to be surprised,” Marvolo told him, coming up from behind and hugging him around the waist. “Your Aunt Bellatrix might be at tea in less than a month and you and Selenadora should be prepared.”

“I honestly don’t know how I can prepare Selene,” Lycoris said, using his nickname for her. “She’d tell Flo, who would tell Father, and then I don’t know where the information would go.”

“Could you perhaps have Draco prepare her with the information?” Marvolo questioned. “How does their courtship come along?”

“Well, although it seems Selene can’t convince Draco to kiss her. She won’t stop complaining about it.” He made a face. “Frankly, I’d rather not have the mental image.” He sighed. “What do you want me to tell the other side?”

“The day after the attack, there should be a report in The Daily Prophet. I want you to give a message to Scrimgeour—not to Dumbledore.”

“I can do that.” He sighed. “I don’t want to be branded a traitor, though, for withholding information.”

“You’re not withholding,” Marvolo argued. “You’re simply waiting for your cue to deliver it. It won’t make sense otherwise.”

“Very well.” He turned in Marvolo’s arms and kissed him softly. “How much longer until the war is won?”

“Within the year, I should think. Perhaps a little longer.”

“And then we can duel in public without hiding our lessons, and have Dark Arts taught at Hogwarts.” He sighed. “Whatever will you do with the Muggleborns?”

“I will begin a campaign which will end with their wands being snapped and with them either being imprisoned or sent back into the Muggle world.”

Lycoris paused. “Interesting. Could you perhaps do something for me?” His blond and black hair suddenly shimmered gold and Marvolo ran his fingers through it. “Could you name my father’s marriage to Mother legal?”

“That would cause a great disturbance in society, Coris,” Marvolo explained carefully.

“Just, then, make it a special act of the Wizengamot. Mal, I’m the product of incest at the moment. If anyone finds out—I don’t know what they’d do to me—It’s too horrible to think about—I could lose my name, my title—“

“Shh,” Marvolo soothed, as he brought Lycoris closer. “We will not let that happen. As long as the Rosiers claim you, you’re safe.”

“They only want Isabelle Rosier to be Heiress Sirius.”

“That may be. But their greed can shield you.”

“I’m tired of hiding. I want to show my real face. Is that silly of me? I used to glory in making my eyes gray and my hair black. But now I just want to lower my cheekbones and let my eyes shine violet and my hair gold.”

“Change your cheekbones,” Marvolo suggested carefully. “Your hair does honor to both of your parents. And your eyes—just think of them belonging to your lover. They’re private, not a secret, but something too wonderful to share with the world.”

“I just want Mother back. Is that wrong?”

“That can never be wrong,” Marvolo insisted. “Never, Coris. And I know she loved you. She could not bear to be within this world without you and Lord Black. It was too harsh for her. So she decided to be with you, Coris. She left this world so she could hold you in her arms like she never could in life. Of this I am certain.”

“We won’t leave our children,” Lycoris swore as he pulled away and looked Marvolo in the eyes.

“No,” Marvolo agreed, brushing away his tears. “No, we won’t.”

…

Draco waited patiently for Selenadora, uncertain how he was going to begin. She came into the common room, her hair long and done in braids, and he smiled at her. It was a crime for her to be so lovely, he thought. A true crime.

“I have something to tell you,” he murmured as she came to sit beside him, “but you can’t tell anyone.”

“Does Lie know?”

“Yes, but we decided it might be better coming from me.”

She nodded.

“You know how Winter hols are coming up?”

“In a month, yes.”

“We might have a guest at Malfoy Manor—your cousin and my aunt. However, it has to be a secret.” She looked at him blankly and he sighed. “Perhaps Lycoris should explain.”

“Perhaps he should not,” she decided. “It is something to do with this Dark Lord, yes? I have decidé that your father is a supporter.”

“We don’t talk about such things.”

“You tell Theodore Nott that you want to marry me—don’t think that I haven’t heard. Pansy was crying over it. And you won’t tell me this?”

“It is just—Dora—“

She stood. “I’ll have Lie explain,” she stated, moving away from him.

…

Lycoris was sitting in the library when Selenadora found him. “Draco tried to explain something to me, but I got angry. I accused his father of being a—Death Eater, is it?”

“Yes, they’re called Death Eaters.”

She sighed, running a hand down her brown hair. “Lie, may I ask? Why is your hair black and blond? I do not understand. It is clearly not the style. Boys also wear their hair short except for men.”

Lycoris looked at her. “I wear it black and blond to honor both my parents. You know that I can change my appearance at will?”

“Aunt Flo explained it,” she told him. “And the length.”

“I’m an ambassador. I figured I wouldn’t play by the rules any longer.” He shrugged. “Marvolo likes it.”

They smiled conspiratorially at each other.

“Well,” she stated primly after a minute. “That’s all that matters in the end, is it not? Then again, we should not change ourselves for others. It is wrong.”

“I’m not sure many would agree with you. But, here’s the thing, Aunt Bellatrix is in Azkaban.”

“The prison?”

“She might be getting a secret parole.”

Selenadora blinked at him. “There is more than what you are saying.”

“What I know is from the Dark Lord,” he admitted, “and he agreed to let me warn you. However, I cannot give specifics. I’m not even supposed to know. If the other side finds out I’m withholding information as an ambassador…”

“Je comprends.” She sighed again. “So Aunt Bellatrix is who?”

“Aunt Narcissa’s eldest sister. She was a Death Eater like Uncle Regulus. She might be at Malfoy Manor when we go over Yule hols.”

“Ah. Is Draco’s father a Death Eater?”

“Selene…”

“Of course, it is just that the Dark Lord killed my father. What if he kills my husband’s father or my husband?”

“Your father’s death was an accident,” Lycoris reminded her. “And, if they were Death Eaters, I am sure they would be favored. I’ve spoken to the Dark Lord about your courtship to Draco. He’s quite pleased with it.”

Selenadora laughed. “How strange, that he should think of such things.”

“He’s quite fond of me and Lord Riddle,” Lycoris admitted. “Of me, especially. He wants to see the match brought off.”

“Is Lord Riddle a supporter?”

“I don’t know,” Lycoris lied. Then, telling the truth, he added, “We never talk politics.”

“I think husband and wife should be of one mind in such things.”

Lycoris thought of Sirius and Lux and how Sirius was a member of the Order and Lux was from a dark family. “Not necessarily,” he disagreed. “I think love can transcend politics.”

“But is marriage always about love?” she asked a little sadly.

“For a Black, it is,” Lycoris reminded her. He didn’t mention how he doubted Sirius was truly in love with Flo. He loved her, of course, he just wasn’t in love with her.

…

Scrimgeour and Dumbledore stood near the desk while Lycoris had his hands behind his back. He was in his school uniform and kept on reminding himself that he outranked the two men socially—put together.

“When did you get this?” Dumbledore asked carefully.

“Yesterday. I was instructed to give it to you today once you had read The Daily Prophet.” Of course, this was a lie. He’d gotten it last week, but he wasn’t going to tell them that.

“And why did you give it to us now?” Scrimgeour all but boomed.

“Because,” Lycoris said simply. “I am an ambassador to both sides. If you were planning an attack and didn’t want a parchment given to the Dark Lord until after, I would respect your wishes. Of course, I didn’t know he was planning an attack, but that is beside the point.”

“You are treading on seriously thin ground, Ambassador,” Scrimgeour muttered.

“Then appoint someone else. I deliver communiqué as bidden, Minister. If need be, I negotiate. The Dark Lord wished this to arrive now. Here you have it. I am also missing class, which you know the Dark Lord is hardly tolerant of.”

The man turned an unpleasant shade of red.

“I don’t doubt Mr. Malfoy will give you his notes,” Dumbledore stated.

“It’s not the same,” Lycoris offered. “There you have his demands.” He picked up the parchment. “He will give you forewarning of his next four attacks if you recognize a marriage previously viewed as illegal as lawful in the eyes of magic.”

“Out!” Scrimgeour declared and Lycoris bowed. “And fix that hair of yours.”

“Hardly,” Lycoris announced as he left. “I’m quite fond of it.”

Dumbledore turned to Scrimgeour. “You shouldn’t have let the boy leave. We need to know exactly what forewarning means. Does it mean an hour, a day? What exactly?”

“I’ll write a communiqué and give it to that brat when he doesn’t have classes.”

“Friday night then. You know what this means, Scrimgeour. I wonder who the couple is, that they are so important that Voldemort would take an interest in the legality of their marriage.”

“It’s a small price to pay,” Scrimgeour disagreed. “It’s just one couple who are probably first cousins.”

“But how far will he go with this?” Dumbledore wondered aloud. “It could set a dangerous precedent. We already have Lycoris marrying a man and producing children, and now another couple. It’s strange.”

“As long as no one’s hurt,” Scrimgeour muttered, writing out the pardon. The names would be filled in by Voldemort and would be signed by both Scrimgeour and Dumbledore. Everything would work out in the end.

…

Hermia woke up and quickly looked about for her nightgown. She felt so bare, even under the covers and—yes—there it was. Over the chair. Looking about, she dashed toward it and quickly put it on. There was a sound at the bedroom door and Hermia turned toward it.

“Oh,” Sydney said. “I wanted to wake you with breakfast in bed.”

She smiled. “I can get back in,” she stated, going back to the bed and drawing back the sheets. “Better?”

He set down the tray and leaned down to kiss her. “Good morning, Mrs. Chambers.”

“Hello, Reverend Chambers,” she responded, smiling.

Of course, he’d burnt the toast and the orange juice was from concentrate, but Hermia would soon set that to rights. She had a home now, to run on her own. It was a whole new adventure.

…

It was the last weekend before holidays, and Lycoris appeared in the kitchen. “Coris, what are you doing here?” Sirius asked him, clapping him on the back.

“I asked the Dark Lord to make a specific demand,” he colored. “About Mother.” His eyes shuddered purple to show that he was speaking about Lux and Sirius nodded. “I have it right here: the act of legitimation. All you have to do is fill it out, Father. Please. I know it’s during dinner, and I’m sorry, Flo, but could you do it now. It’s just—I just got it—and Mother—she’s my Mother—she doesn’t deserve to be rotting in a Muggle cemetery even if I did change her stone! Isabelle Rosier shouldn’t hold the position of Heiress Sirius Black when you probably spoke maybe half a dozen times to each other.”

“Coris,” Sirius warned, placing his hand on Lycoris, but he just shook him off.

“Full Pardon, signed by Albus Dumbledore, Head of the Wizengamot, and Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic. It’s sealed by Mother Magic, Father. Please, now. The tapestry will recognize it.”

Sirius glanced over at Flo who was clearly showing her pregnancy, and she looked a little confused.

“Coris—“

“Think! I had Kreacher look and he found a portrait of her in the attic! I don’t know how old she was when it was painted, but we could hang it. I could put up her pictures at school! You can tell everyone why I was stolen and who stole me! And it’s legal! We made it legal!”

Sirius put out his hand and Lycoris handed over the parchment. He quickly read over it before calling for a quill and then putting in the names: “Sirius Black III,” “Lux Elizabeth Kingsley,” and then under issue “Lycoris Rosier Black.” The parchment glowed.

Lycoris tore out of the kitchen and went to the tapestry. There, emblazoned next to his father’s name, was Lux Elizabeth Kingsley. He smiled.

“It worked!” he called, and he turned to see Sirius and Flo standing behind him.

“Who’s Lux Kingsley?” she asked, looking at Sirius.

“My first wife,” he answered. “We had to marry in secret, and I loved her very, very dearly.—Now, do you want your mother’s portrait in your room or somewhere more noticeable?”

“The Landing,” Lycoris stated. “It’s just so bare.”

“There used to be house elf heads mounted on it,” Sirius said with disgust. “It took us two weeks to take them down, it was so horrible. It’s one of the reasons you couldn’t quite come home directly after I was freed.”

“There’s more to this story,” Flo decided. “I don’t suppose anyone will tell me.”

“I don’t want to upset you or the baby,” Sirius said gently.

“I’ll get it all out of her portrait.”

Sirius sighed. “I can’t stop you,” he admitted. “Nor should I, I suppose. But we should have it up within the week so that you can finally talk to your mother, Coris. She would be so proud of you.”

“Think she’ll be angry you’ve gone and married again?”

Sirius looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. We always said we couldn’t live without each other, and it killed me when I got out of Azkaban to find out she had died. It was the first place I went, to our little cottage. I visited the parish priest to see where she had gone. Fortunately, he didn’t recognize me, and he told me about her suicide. Didn’t tell me she was buried there, of course, the bastard. Still, we’ll get her moved now to the family mausoleum.”

Lycoris smiled.

…

Bellatrix smirked as she looked at the assembled party. “Really? All for me? I feel quite blessed.”

“Don’t,” Sirius put in, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m here under duress.”

“Don’t be like that, Cousin Sirius,” Narcissa stated. “I just pointed out that since the Dark Lord had your marriage to my niece recognized, the least you could do was have tea with your cousin.”

Selenadora looked over at Draco confused. “What are they talking about?”

He leaned over. “Magical incest. If anyone found out, Lie couldn’t have inherited the title. The Dark Lord had it all cleared up.”

She nodded.

“Now,” Bellatrix stated. “I know everyone of my generation, but who are all these young people? These three must be Malfoys.” She pointed to Draco, Lacerta, and Iolanthe. “Yes, I can see that you are. And the rest?”

“My courted, Lady Selenadora Black. She’s been living in France until recently with her mother.”

“Ah ha!” Bellatrix screeched in triumph. “Who’s your father?”

“Regulus,” she answered, holding up her head. “Lord Regulus Black.”

“And well you carry his likeness,” she admitted. “Regulus was always a quiet boy, but still waters run deep, especially in his case. And you must be Sirius’s son.” She looked at Lycoris. “Whatever have you done to your hair?”

“I am an ambassador,” Lycoris declared. “I follow my own dictates on hair fashion.”

“I see,” she said, lifting her chin. “The Dark Lord told me about you. Heir Lycoris Black, the stolen child. Who stole you?”

Lycoris looked her dead in the eyes and for the first time, admitted the truth. “James and Lily Potter.”

Bellatrix choked on her tea. “They dare to steal a Black? Such worthless, inconsiderate mudbloods and blood traitors. Potter may not have held a minor title, but to marry a mudblood was simply unforgivable. Unforgivable! And now this? How your poor mother must have suffered.”

“Yes, we did,” Sirius answered tersely. “We thought we’d lost Lycoris before he was born.”

“The outrage! I know the Dark Lord would punish them greatly if they weren’t already dead, young nephew. But surely this is not common knowledge?”

“Only the Blacks, the Malfoys, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named know,” Sirius put in. “My wife doesn’t even know.”

“Oh, yes,” Lycoris said happily. “Flo is having a girl! I’ll have a little sister to spoil rotten!”

“You’ll be surrounded,” Draco warned. “You already have a cousin, and now you have a sister on the way. Your life will never be the same.”

“I’m marrying in August, by special act of the Wizengamot,” Lycoris argued. “I won’t be there to be outnumbered.”

The cousins smiled at each other.

“Just don’t get any ideas,” Sirius told Selenadora. “Lycoris is a special case. He grew up far too young because he was stolen.”

“And who is your betrothed?” Bellatrix asked casually.

Everyone was suddenly silent.

Bellatrix looked around. “Was it something I said?”


	16. Part the Fourteenth

**Part the Fourteenth—  
** _“I was the man who never lied / Never lied until today / But I just couldn’t break your heart / Like you did mine yesterday”  
_ **—“The Man Who Never Lied,” Maroon 5**

“You married your godsibling?” Flo screamed in the drawing room. The entire family was present, and Selenadora was looking over at Lycoris for help.

“It’s illegal,” he whispered.

“I thought—wasn’t there a form—?”

“There’s still a stigma.”

Flo threw a pillow cushion at Sirius. “I’ll divorce you!” she screamed. “Look what you did to poor Lycoris!”

“Oh no,” he breathed.

“You had to keep it a secret from him, his magic is all twisted—“

“That,” Sirius interjected, “is a lie.”

“No, it’s not. He’s the product of an incestuous relationship. Your magic is so similar that it turns in on itself and eats away at itself!—I can’t believe you would endanger your own child. No, I’m getting out of here!”

“Don’t take another step!” Sirius intoned. “If you sue me for magical divorce, you know they’ll award me the baby. I’m Lord Black and my previous marriage is legitimate according to the Head of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic. You’re the third daughter of nobody, with no dowry, nothing. I’m one of the most powerful wizards in the kingdom!”

“How—dare—you—“

“How dare I? You want to take my child away from me!” he bellowed. “And love is never wrong, Flo. Never.”

He stalked out of the room.

Flo refused to stay. In the end, law wizards were hired, a hearing was brought before a judge, and Flo was forced to return at Grimmauld Place before the child was born. Then Sirius could magically divorce her for not accepting his family magics, as she technically had no grounds, and she could only leave with the clothes on her back. She wouldn’t have anything but her original birth name. Not even her small dowry.

She was given one of the guest rooms and she rarely came down, even for meals. Kreacher was told to still treat her as the Lady of the House, as she was carrying the next Black, and Lycoris could only watch it all.

“Will you divorce her?” he asked Sirius quietly over lunch one day.

Selenadora looked up, a coronet back on her head.

“Yes, it seems to be what she wants,” he answered stiffly. “I thought I could find some form of happiness now that Lux was gone. I was flattered by her interest and I found her beautiful, but now, after all this.”

“We’ll have a baby,” Selenadora stated. “That’s all that matters. Do we have names?”

“I honestly hadn’t thought.”

“Dora or a star?” Lycoris asked. “Name her after me as a lark—Harrendora.”

Sirius smiled. “Are you sure you want to be reminded of your kidnapping?”

“It’s a beautiful name,” Lycoris declared. “And it needs to be rehabilitated.”

…

Lycoris was sitting with Draco, Selenadora, and Lacerta. Iolanthe was too young. “Right,” he began, placing a copy of Spungen’s Guide to Pureblood Dynasties, c.1500-present on the table. “Father loved Mother. Desperately. He’s never going to get that back. Flo’s proved a disappointment and Harrendora needs a mother. Father also could use not to be alone. We need to find someone.”

“Don’t you think Cousin Sirius should be the one?” Lacerta asked, but Draco shook his head.

“Definitely not. He’s still probably in shock from what Florence did when she found out. At least we don’t have to deal with it being a secret anymore. It made the headlines of The Prophet.”

Selenadora shivered. “I can’t help. I don’t know pureblood dynasties here in England.”

“Well then,” Lacerta said, taking the book and flipping through it. “I have just the witch it mind. She opened to the Prince family tree and showed it to everyone. “There’s Troy Prince, naturally, with his three children and the youngest is his heir, Octavian. Troy has two younger half-siblings, Paris and Eileen. Eileen, of course, married a Muggle and had Professor Snape.”

Lycoris looked up at her in shock. She, however, blithely continued.

“Paris, however, had one daughter. It looks like she’s,” she peered at the book, “nineteen now. Younger than Florence but older than you, Lycoris. I haven’t heard of any courtship offers, possibly because she’s from a lesser offshoot.”

“Is she beautiful?”

“I’ll ask Professor Snape,” Draco said. “He’s sure to have a picture somewhere.”

“Then we’ll try that angle,” Lycoris decided. He looked at the chart. “Except for a half-blood cousin, and really who can help that, she has impeccable blood lines. How are the Princes for blood purity?”

“They’re obsessed with it,” Draco stated, a little harshly. “They’re also obsessed with appearances.”

Their gazes locked and held. There was more to the story there. 

Draco and Lycoris were lying on Draco’s bed in Slytherin, sticking charms and silencing spells in place as they made birds of light dance around the ceiling. “What aren’t you telling me?” Lycoris asked. “I thought we told each other everything.”

“It’s too shameful,” Draco admitted. “I only found out by accident.”

Lycoris nodded. “It has to do with the Princes, though. Does it hurt the case of Lady Andromache with Father?”

“No, not at all, it’s just …” He puffed out some air. “Father was placed under the Imperius Curse.”

“What?” Lycoris screeched, rising to one elbow.

“There was a beautiful witch and he was forced to—well—there was a child. She named him Octavian Nür Prince and left him with her parents, Lord and Lady Prince. As their own son had died, they named him their child and their heir. He’s here at Hogwarts. Father only found out a year ago when he clapped eyes on the boy at the Department of Mysteries. Father was one of the Death Eaters sent to retrieve the Prophecy once that Longbottom idiot had taken it off the shelf. Well, Prince was there, and, well, it’s rather obvious he’s a Malfoy. Just like it’s a bit obvious you are if you actually look at you and not just your Black features or discount your hair as being the blond Black hair.” He sighed. “Lacerta and Iolanthe are never to know.”

“No, of course not,” Lycoris agreed. “As you say, he’s the son of Lord and Lady Prince. That’s enough to be getting on with.”

Draco squeezed his hand. “It’s amazing how many children there are in hiding. You don’t really think about it, but heirs go missing or are hidden somewhere else.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Lycoris mused. “At least Father’s had Mother’s grave moved. That’s something.—I wonder if Andromache is blonde.”

The two burst out laughing.

“This will certainly make your family tree interesting,” Draco finally said.

“No more interesting than others,” Lycoris insisted. “You’re lucky. Your parents both survived the war unscathed. Not many can say that.”

“No. Not many can,” he agreed. “Oh, look. Your cat followed you here. It really is devoted.”

“Be lucky Samhain doesn’t follow me through the floo,” Lycoris laughed. “That would really be something.”

…

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, looking over his half-moon spectacles. “Enlighten me, Ambassador,” he said, picking up the scroll. “This attack will take place within the next two weeks.”

“As I understand it.”

“Hmm.” He set the scroll down. “Your cousin Auror Tonks has been asking after you,” he put lightly. “She hasn’t seen you since Headquarters were moved from Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

“I doubt she will see me,” Lycoris added back. “My father accepts my wishes not to see that side of the family.”

“Quite.” Dumbledore paused. “Perhaps you can clear something up for me, Heir Lycoris. Why is Voldemort so fond of you?”

Again with the blatant disrespect. It still irked Lycoris.

“Why do you think he has a particular fondness?”

“Out of all the names he could have chosen, your uncle Lord Malfoy being one of them, he chose you. Then, he has your father’s first marriage legitimized. Even the combined power of the Black and Malfoy families would not have been able to achieve this. Yet Lord Voldemort does this specifically for you, offering up tactical details of his attacks. Why?”

Lycoris shrugged elegantly. “Perhaps it was because I asked him to.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said pensively. “But you must have offered him something in return. Marriage perhaps?”

“I’m afraid I’m engaged to Lord Riddle,” Lycoris reminded him. “Not the Dark Lord.”

“Come, we are friends, of a sort. You are my ambassador. Let’s call things as they really are. Lord Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr. to a Muggle father and a witch that was practically a Squib.”

“Forgetting the name, I highly doubt his father was a Muggle and his mother was a Squib. The Dark Lord is far too powerful for that.”

“Magic works in mysterious ways.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Lycoris mused, thinking of the scar on his forehead. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“Lord Voldemort never gives a favor without exacting a price,” Dumbledore said darkly. “He will occasionally reward, but then it is something small. An act of legitimacy of your parents’ marriage and, thus, yourself, is not small. It is almost the act of a lover to his fiancé.”

“What an interesting theory, but I’m afraid you are wrong,” Lycoris countered.

Dumbledore paused. “There was one other occasion when he granted such a great boon. Are you aware that Voldemort killed James Potter outright but gave Lily Potter the chance to live?”

Lycoris felt his throat close up. He shook his head, knowing that if he were to speak, it would come out strangled.

“Yes. His follower heard the beginning of a prophecy, which determined that Harry Potter was to die. His death before his first year here at Hogwarts was tragic. Some say the Dark Lord’s followers had a hand in it.” He sighed. “The follower asked for Lily Potter in exchange for the prophecy. Voldemort granted the request.”

“He—the follower—“ Lycoris was proud of himself, his voice was hushed, but it came out strong “—wanted her sexually.”

“He had since he was a very small child,” Dumbledore confided. “Yes, Severus Snape and Lily Potter knew each other even before they came to Hogwarts.”

Lycoris’s head snapped up. Severus Snape?

“So, he would trade an innocent child’s life for a fuck toy?” he spat. “Well, obviously Mrs. Potter did not take the chance to live. Strange,” he mused to himself.

“Normally, I would take points for language, Mr. Black, but considering the circumstances, I will not. I am glad, though, to see that you are on our side. As Severus now is, I would like to tell you. But of course you know that. He has been at Grimmauld Place a number of times. I was, of course, beginning to wonder if the dark had your allegiance.”

“I am an ambassador,” he said cruelly. “I have no side.”

“As you say, Ambassador. As you say. My boy, I hate to bother you, but your hair is turning completely blond.”

Lycoris picked up the ends of his hair and watch it transform it before his eyes. “Forgive me, Headmaster, but this is an old Black malady. My father has the cure. If I may be permitted to see him as it is the weekend?”

Dumbledore looked at him carefully. “Your eyes are violet like you mother’s,” he mused. “Tonks has been showing similar signs of such a malady this year. Her hair is no longer pink but a mousy brown. Go to your father. I doubt Madam Pomfrey could heal such an ailment.”

“Thank you, Headmaster,” he whispered, heading for the floo. “Could you have Draco floo over my work?”

“Of course,” he said jovially. “You’ll have it within the next few hours.”

Then, with a wisp of smoke, he was gone.

…

“I only just got the owl,” Narcissa said as she rushed into Lycoris’s room. “Lucius is in a meeting, but I left word for him as soon as he got out.”

Sirius was sitting by the side of Lycoris’s bed, holding his hand. He’d carefully taken the twist out of his golden blond hair, lengthening it by several inches, and had even combed it to calm Lycoris.

“Flo won’t come down,” he spat viciously. “I know she’s due in a month, but it’s only a stairway.”

“I saw the divorce went through, Cousin,” Narcissa murmured. “What else has been done for Lie?”

“I sent for You-Know-Who,” he stated. “I wasn’t sure where to send the owl or how to send the owl, so there are several gone out there. I just don’t know what went wrong this time.”

They waited in silence until half an hour later Marvolo and Lucius stepped in. “What happened?” Marvolo demanded, coming up and smoothing out Lycoris’s hair. “Darling, did Dumbledore do this?”

Lycoris nodded his head and Marvolo sighed. “I won’t know if you won’t tell me.”

“He talked about when you went to kill the Potters—and Severus—how he asked—“

“For Lily Potter’s life in exchange for yours,” Marvolo reasoned. “I saw no harm in it. He was but a half-blood. His line had already been polluted.”

“I was a child!” Lycoris screamed. “You bargained with a child’s life.”

“No,” Marvolo stated coolly, “I bargained with a Mudblood’s who meant next to nothing. She kidnapped you, what would it matter if Snape had raped her?”

“You didn’t know I was kidnapped at the time! You tried to kill me!”

“I tried to kill Harry Potter! I never tried to kill Lycoris Black!” he clarified. Everyone was still in the room, the only sound Lycoris’s harsh breathing. 

“What if it had been Mother?”

“Your mother is a pureblood, Coris.”

Sirius started at the pet name.

“What if it were her?”

“Do you think I do not prize purebloods?” he asked with disdain. “It wouldn’t have mattered to me if she were in an incestuous marriage. Her blood was still pure! Coris, my grandfather married his niece. I am not a stranger to such happenings.”

“The more I hear about your family, the stranger it gets,” Lycoris admitted.

“That could very well be true.” Marvolo leaned forward until their foreheads touched.

“I know when you’re attacking,” Lycoris finally said, as he breathed in Marvolo’s scent.

“When then?”

“About two or three days after you said you would.”

They looked at each other and laughed. “You have a mind for strategy. I could use you as a general for my armies.”

“Sadly, the Blacks are neutral in this war,” Lycoris sighed. “You will just have to make use of our talents in other ways by, say, naming us ambassador.”

“Your hair is still blond,” Marvolo noticed, sitting up, and running his hand through it. 

“I want Snape punished.”

“Why?”

“She gave birth to me. She stole me, but she gave birth to me, and she didn’t step aside and let you have me.”

“I have no valid reason. I cannot tell him that she is the one who stole you.”

Lycoris’s eyes suddenly flicked a stormy gray and large black streaks ran through his hair. “Then make up a reason. Dumbledore called him his spy. Use that as a reason.”

“Dumbledore is supposed to think he’s his spy.”

“Do something!” Lycoris yelled as he sat up on the bed.

“She—is—a—filthy—Mudblood—“ Marvolo declared through clenched teeth.

“I am an incestuous illegitimate!”

“You are not,” Sirius claimed. “You were never that. Lux and I took precautions against it.”

Lycoris looked over at his father momentarily before returning his gaze to Marvolo. 

Marvolo had his fingers pinching his nose and was breathing through it deeply. “Lycoris, I am going to place the world at your feet, but this I cannot give you, though it pains me to say it.”

“What if she loved me?” Lycoris asked brokenly.

“Son,” Lucius stated, sitting down on the bed beside him. “She couldn’t have. She stole you. She merely wanted you. Those are two totally different things.”

Lycoris was now crying against his shoulder and Lucius held him close, looking over at Black, who looked so helpless. 

Finally, Sirius said, “Why don’t I order pizza—don’t look at me like that, Malfoy—and I can set up the old projector and we can watch Dracula, Lycoris’s favorite film. He finds the vampire in it quite funny.”

“An excellent plan,” Narcissa declared. “We can all be quite bohemian and pretend we’re muggles for the night.”

“What an awful thought,” Lucius murmured, looking down at Lycoris whose sobs were now choked and few and far between.

“I think I’d like that.” He turned to Marvolo. “Will you stay?”

“I’ve never had pizza,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to try it, as long as Kreacher is willing to make me something else if the experiment goes awry.”

Lycoris laughed and was helped off the bed. As he left the room, he asked, “Why has Cousin Tonks’ hair gone a mousy brown?”

“Oh,” Sirius exclaimed. “Quite simple really. She fancies the pants off of Remus and he keeps on refusing her advances. Says he’s ‘gay.’ I keep on asking him if he is gay, but can’t get a straight answer out of him.”

…

Sirius sat at The White Witch. Flo was due any day now, but the magical healer said she wouldn’t come during lunch, so he was free to go out.

He really wasn’t sure how he’d let Lycoris, Draco, and Selenadora talk him into this via letter.

A petite witch with brown hair and black eyes appeared at the table. “Lord Black?” she asked carefully, and he immediately stood.

Taking her hand, he greeted, “Lady Andromache.”

She smiled and took her seat. “I was quite surprised when I got Heir Lycoris’s letter. He was quite insistent that the children in your household needed mothering.”

“Sounds like him,” Sirius admitted. “Right now, I have my son and my niece, Lady Selenadora, and my divorced wife is about to give birth to another girl.”

“Yes, he mentioned that. He didn’t give me a name though.” She looked expectant.

“Lady Harrendora.”

“Harrendora?”

“I was godfather to Harry Potter.”

“Ah,” she murmured before taking a sip of her water. “Is ‘dora’ a family name?”

“Yes, we’re usually named after stars but sometimes the women carry the name ‘dora.’ My cousin’s daughter is unfortunately named Nymphadora. I still can’t figure out why Andromeda would give her such a name, but she did.”

Andromache laughed. “No, it brings some disquieting images to mind.—Forgive me. I read Muggle literature, and, well…” She drifted off.

“I’m surprised,” Sirius admitted. “Usually Coris is a stickler on blood purity. He doesn’t even like it when I see Andromeda because she married a Muggle-born.”

“Oh, but I am,” she reassured. “I just like Muggle literature. Not many wizards write, if you’ve noticed.”

He nodded.

A bottle of champagne arrived. “Compliments of Heir Lycoris Black, Heir Draco Malfoy, Lady Selenadora Black, and Lady Lacerta Malfoy,” the waiter said, reading a card.

“Why,” Andromache said, “we do seem to have many people meddling.”

“And all of them my son considers siblings. It’s an unholy alliance.”

“Well, at least you know they care about you,” she admitted. “May I ask you something? I realize it’s personal, but, well, I’d like to know before we proceed.”

The champagne was being poured and Sirius motioned that she should go ahead.

“Why did you divorce Miss Florence Sweetings? She’s with child. What happened?”

Sirius blew out a breath. “Coris got a magical dispensation for my marriage to his mother, Lady Lux Kingsley. You know we were godsiblings.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I read about it in the papers.”

“She found it disgusting, she found me disgusting, she found Lycoris disgusting. There was nothing for it but divorce.”

“And Heiress Sirius—Lux—may I ask why?”

“We loved each other, more than we’d ever seen anyone love each other. You don’t turn your back on a love like that. If my son is right, and he usually is, and this progresses to the bondler, then you’ll have to know that Lux was the love of my life.”

“All right,” she said, raising her glass. “To meddling children who apparently want a mother who’s only nineteen.”

Sirius choked on his champagne.

…

Severus walked up the steps of the rectory. He could ring the doorbell. He knew he could. He just couldn’t be bothered. Swinging his hand the side, the door flew open, crashing against its hinges. 

His wand shone purple.

He was in a little entry hall but he followed the voices until he found a small kitchen with a table in it. Two people were sitting at it, Hermione Granger and, he supposed, the Reverend Sydney Chambers.

Hermione immediately stood. “Professor. What is it now? I’ve done everything you asked.”

Chambers looked between the two of them before standing as well. “We want no trouble,” he said quietly.

“And yet trouble seems to have found you,” he murmured. “The Dark Lord was most distressed to hear from the New Zealand government that a new magical child was on their registries—the unborn child of a Rev. Chambers and a Hermia Grange Chambers. Is there anything you can tell me about that?”

“Magical?” Chambers asked in confusion. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“You didn’t tell him,” Severus accused.

“I live the life of a muggle. My wand was snapped. Why would I ever want to relive any of that by telling anyone!”

“Wand?” Chambers asked Hermione in confusion. “What are you going on about?”

“Just—hang on,” Hermione begged. “Let’s just see what this is all about and then—I don’t know.”

“You have two options, both of which this Ministry supports. They do not wish to anger the Dark Lord, you see. Number one,” he held up a finger. “I curse your womb and you will never bear magical offspring.”

“You cannot possibly,” she ground out, moving forward, but Chambers held her back.

“Number Two,” he held up a second finger, “you give this child and all subsequent children up for adoption. They will be relocated to Britain and given to half-blood parents and your children will, in fact, be half-bloods. Furthermore, you will never have,” now he drawled out the word, “intercourse again without protection so this will hopefully only be a problem this one time.”

“I’m sorry,” Chambers said. “Who are you?”

“Professor Severus Snape. You may be interested to know, Miss Granger, that your friend Sirius Black is courting my cousin Andromache.”

“What happened to that Florence woman?”

“She wanted a divorce. The Dark Lord sued for dispensation to be given to Lord Black so his first marriage could be legally recognized and his son no longer a bastard.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Black married his godsibling and was keeping it a secret from everyone, including Heir Lycoris.”

She sucked in her breath. “But his magic—“

“Is the stronger for it. Now, the choice. Squibs or adoption. Do you want the child or not.”

“I have no idea what a Squib is, but the child is wanted,” Chambers said decidedly. “And then you are telling me everything.”

Hermione disengaged herself from him and then came up to Severus. Whispering in his ear, she asked, “Could you do it and then obliviate him?”

He nodded.

She went back to her husband and he cast the curse.

He left them, Chambers none the wiser, eating their meal. If there were tears in Hermione’s eyes, no one commented on them.


	17. Part the Fifteenth

**Part the Fifteenth—  
** _“Temptation calls like Adam to the apple / But I will not be caught”  
_ **—“Remedy,” Little Boots  
**

The cousins had stayed behind after dinner. “Right, I can only say this in so many ways. Tonight there’s going to be an attack, here, at Hogwarts,” Lycoris explained. He looked at the faces of Selenadora, Draco, Lacerta, and Iolanthe. “Stay in your dorms. Don’t leave for any reason. If for some reason, someone breaches it, scream your name. Get either ‘Malfoy’ or ‘Black’ out of your mouth. Now, you’re all in Slytherin except for Iolanthe, so I’d just play cards or something while everything happens.”

“You are definitely coming to Slytherin, you and Io,” Draco told him, reaching out his hand so that it covered Lycoris’s. “Now, in fact. We’ll go up to my dorm as the girls can get there, and I have a pack of playing cards.”

“I don’t understand,” Iolanthe whispered. She was only a first year. “What is happening?”

Lacerta looked her straight in the eye and smiled. “We’re just going to play a game, us cousins, down in Slytherin. Just like we do back home. Won’t that be fun?”

“But I’m in Hufflepuff!”

“Never mind that,” Selenadora said. “We’re sneaking you in. We’re just going to have fun and forget about schoolwork. I’ll even get Kreacher to come and bring us sweets.” She smiled at Iolanthe who seemed to relax.

“Right,” Lycoris said. “Let’s get going.”

The cousins walked at a sedate pace and didn’t garner much attention as they were usually seen together. Lycoris and Iolanthe’s presence were noticed when they entered Slytherin, but Draco just stared everyone down as they went down the winding staircase to the dorm.

“This is me,” he said, patting a bed. “Everyone up and I’ll get the cards.”

“Kreacher!” Selenadora called, and the elf managed to get through the wards. She started talking to him quietly and then everyone was on the bed with pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs and butterbeers. Lacerta had closed the drapes.

“Right,” Selenadora began. “Do you play games in England as we do in France?”

The tension was so fraught that Draco started laughing.

Still, they managed a game of piquet and a few of Jim Rummy. They could tell when the castle was attacked. There was a shift in the wards, and Draco didn’t look surprised at all.

“It was you,” Lycoris whispered to him. They were sitting right next to each other.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t.”

“That’s Slytherin for ‘yes’,” Lycoris noted and the boys shared a look.

Fortunately, they were able to keep Iolanthe’s mind off of it. They had her eating cauldron cakes and drinking butterbeer (they seemed to have an endless supply) and just having fun playing exploding snap. Hours seemed to pass and then there was rushing on the stairs.

Their curtains were pulled open and the strange face of a wizard they had never seen before appeared.

“I am Heir Lycoris Black, Ambassador to the Dark Lord,” Lycoris stated. “These are my cousins, Heir Draco Malfoy, Ladies Lacerta and Iolanthe Malfoy, and of course Lady Selenadora Black.”

The man looked between them and then grabbed Lycoris’s hair. “Yes, I can see who you are.” He closed the drapes again and then shouted, “Morsmordre!”

“What on earth does that mean?” Lacerta asked.

“I think we were just branded,” Selenadora remarked. “I wouldn’t think on it.”

“No,” Draco agreed. “It’s better not to.”

Iolanthe looked scared so they continued their game of exploding snap.

...

Dumbledore’s dead. Surrender now and we will be merciful to you. LV

Scrimgeour looked up from the scroll. “How was the battle of Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know,” Lycoris answered truthfully. “My cousins and I sometimes have impromptu card games in the Slytherin dungeons, so we missed it all. We were busy eating cauldron cakes and drinking butterbeer.”

“That has nothing to do with the rumors that your cousin Draco Malfoy’s bed hangings have the Dark Mark emblazoned on them.”

“A rather frightening individual interrupted us. We introduced ourselves and he cast a spell at the hangings. We thought it better not to investigate in case he was still lingering.”

“Hmm. Surrender. I must bring this before the Wizengamot. Come back again this time tomorrow.”

“I have class. I can come before dinner.”

Scrimgeour nodded. “Very well. I will have your answer then.”

…

It was three days after the attack and both Lycoris and Selenadora were called to the Infirmary, which was rather odd. As far as they were aware, no one they knew had been injured or killed.

“There you are, you young whipper snappers,” Sirius greeted as he joined them in the halls. “You’ll be happy to know that Harrendora is doing quite well.”

“The proud father?” Lycoris asked.

“Yes,” Sirius agreed. “She’s not Lux’s, but she’s mine, and I love her for it.”

“Has Andromache met her yet?”

“I thought it better not to. The courtship is so new,” Sirius admitted. “I’ve shown her pictures, of course. Andromache’s father, Lord Paris Prince, is a fright, though. He’s taken it as a personal affront that I’ve been married twice before.”

“It’s not unheard of,” Lycoris mused. “I think his own father was married three times.”

“I’ll mention that to him,” Sirius said, smiling. They turned to the hospital ward. “Now, I wonder what this is all about.”

There was a partition off to the side, and in there they found a witch that could have been Bellatrix Lestrange’s twin, except she had brown hair that was a little straighter. She was crying and on the bed was the still but breathing form of Nymphadora Tonks, her hair a limp brown.

“Andromeda,” Sirius immediately said, engulfing her in a hug. “How’s Tonks?”

“They don’t know if she’s going to make it. Ted’s gone and I’m sorry but I just wanted family to be with me.”

“Of course,” Sirius murmured.

Lycoris took in the scene and immediately left. Selenadora, looking between everyone, quickly followed him. “Lie, what’s wrong?”

“She’s a blood traitor and Tonks is a half-blood. I cannot bear the impurity of blood,” he stated as he walked down the main aisle. “Muggle taint sickens me.”

“She’s our cousin,” Selenadora insisted. “Surely this is a time of need when such prejudices should be set aside.”

Lycoris looked at her with sad eyes. “I was captured by a Muggleborn and her husband, and when they died I was left with magic-hating Muggles who tortured me, Selene. I have the scars on my back to prove it. I refuse to morph them into existence even for my lover. I hate Muggles. They’re disgusting and beneath my notice.”

He made to walk away, but Selenadora grabbed his sleeve. “You know I don’t hold this against you, I never would, but surely you are the product of something that is less than acceptable. Can’t you find it in your heart—?”

“I,” Lycoris coldly stated, “am the product of a love that was so great it overcame magic. Have you ever wondered why we don’t have godsiblings? It’s so we’ll never be put in the same impossible situation again. Now, let me go. If you must, return to Andromeda. She’s your cousin, and if you wish to comfort her, then please do. I won’t stop you. All I ask is that you don’t hinder me either.”

He then turned again and walked out the doors, probably to find Samhain who was his comfort whenever he could not go to Marvolo.

Selenadora was torn over what to do. She stood in the ward, looking down at her hands, and tried to slow her breathing.

Sirius came around the partition. “Selene? Would you like to meet your cousin Andromeda?”

She looked at her uncle, who had nothing but hope in his eyes, and she turned back toward him. Leaning up to his ear so that only he could hear her, she whispered, “This does not mean I’ve made a decision. I have merely recognized the effects of war.”

“I understand,” he murmured, touching her arm. Turning to Andromeda who had such hope in her face, Sirius led Selenadora to her. “This is Regulus’s girl, Selenadora. She comes to us from France.”

“I can see your father in you,” she declared, “and you must have your mother’s lovely hair. I’m sure many a witch is envious of it here.”

“I know Draco likes it,” she offered. At Andromeda’s questioning look, she continued, “Heir Draco Malfoy. We’re courting.”

“Strange,” she murmured. “I thought Malfoys only liked blondes.” She gave a weak smile and then motioned to the bed. “Nymphadora never thought of marrying. She always said work was too important to her.” Then she was crying again and Selenadora had no idea what to do. Sirius pushed past her and hugged Andromeda and Selenadora slipped from the makeshift room.

…

“You might as well know now,” Scrimgeour said, handing over the scroll. “I ask for his exact plan to restructure the Ministry and the role he plans to play in this whole farce, whether dictator, minister of magic, or something else.”

“I see,” Lycoris said. Of course, he partially knew the answer to such a thing. Marvolo meant to place a coronet upon his brow. Surely that meant some sort of ruling position.

“I’ll bring this to him immediately.” He carried several portkeys around his neck, one to Riddle House, one to Malfoy Manor, one to the Headmaster’s Office, and finally one to Scrimgeour’s Office. “Goodnight, Minister.” He took the blue ball while twisting it, and then landed in the same floo room where he had first encountered Riddle House.

He walked the stairways up to the office, where he did not find Marvolo. Next he checked the bedroom, where he found him unlacing his boots, his hair loose about his shoulders. Lycoris leaned against the wall.

“I hope you plan to take me to bed once you’ve dealt with this—impertinence.”

Red-brown eyes flashed up to him and Lycoris could only smile, his heart beating a little faster.

“Hello, fiancé-mine.”

“Hello, darling.” The boot was quickly kicked off and the parchment was flung to the ground as lips softly met lips.

“We may be married under your rule,” Lycoris murmured. “How strange would that be?”

“I don’t intend to dissolve the Wizengamot,” Marvolo assured between kisses. “Now, I want you in my bed by the time I’ve dealt with this impertinence, as you call it.”

Lycoris laughed happily and Marvolo picked up the parchment and swept from the room.

He was not happy when he returned. 

“What is it?” Lycoris asked. 

“They demand to know your previous identity as part of the surrender,” Marvolo muttered darkly. “I must meet with Lord Black and Lord Malfoy immediately.”

“But they can’t. I—that’s secret.”

“There are other ways to win this war without an immediate surrender,” Marvolo assured him. “This would have perhaps been swiftest and the most obvious, but it cannot be helped.”

Lycoris lay on his side and contemplated his options. “No, you should consult your lieutenants, as well as Father. I—he’s dead though. Harry Potter’s completely dead. Uncle Lucius made sure to kill him.”

“We can always find another identity,” Marvolo suggested. “Something a little less heinous. Blame an Order Member.”

“And which order member are you going to blame?”

There was a long silence. “No!” Lycoris exclaimed, coming up to rest on his elbows. “Why wasn’t I seen for eleven years if Andromeda Tonks took me?”

“She kept you locked in a basement. Your father, after all, was a Death Eater and your mother was his godsibling. It was unnatural.”

Lycoris shook his head. “It would never work. How did I get out?”

“Accidental magic,” Marvolo explained calmly. “You escaped and you found yourself in Diagon Alley where you found your cousin Draco in a robes shop and the Malfoys saved you from Andromeda. Simple. It’s solved.”

“Not solved. This will never come off.”

“Yes, it will.”

Lucius was all for it. “Yes, it will be ample punishment for her imprudent marriage.”

“Can you hear yourself speak?” Sirius demanded. “We can’t pin this on Andromeda. Such a thing is simply preposterous! She’s my cousin!”

“She’s my sister-in-law,” Lucius argued. “I think I’m best to judge.”

“You hate blood impurity!”

“So does Lycoris,” Lucius drawled.

Lycoris just sat dumfounded as Marvolo watched on. “If any of you have anyone to place the blame onto, then by all means, speak up. However, I can find no other reasonable candidates.”

Sirius blew out through his nose. “This is utterly ridiculous. We’ll be ruining Andromeda’s life.”

“She ruined it when she made her daughter a half-blood.”

Sirius just groaned. “This is so disgusting I can’t even think.”

There was a pause. “She tried to seduce me after I married Narcissa. Draco was on the way. She put Amortentia in my drink when she insisted we needed to meet to go over ways to divorce that Muggle-born she’d married. I think that child of hers was about six or seven at the time. Andromeda didn’t know if she’d be able to retain full custody of her half-blood daughter. For Narcissa’s sake, I offered my assistance. Little did I know it was a trap.”

Sirius looked at him warily. “Line theft? Really?”

Lucius nodded. “Fortunately, I smelled the potion, and was rather ungentlemanly. I poured it over her head and left where we were meeting. She sent me several owls afterward, but I returned them all, unopened.”

“That’s disgusting,” Lycoris finally said. It was the first time he had spoken during the conversation. “I’m glad I refused to meet with her just these past few days. I know about the Prince problem and how none of it was your fault. This just would have been too much on top of that.”

“Whatever could she want with her sister’s husband?” Marvolo mused, skipping over the last part of Lycoris’s speech. “Apart from the obvious, but it’s technically incest.”

“Watch it there, Dark Lord,” Sirius threatened.

“You have a dispensation, Lord Black, or have you forgotten? Your son procured it for you. I must say, he loves his mother very much as, I assume, he loves you.”

“If she’s guilty of attempted line rape and incest, why not stealing a child and keeping him locked in a basement? It’s not that hard of a leap,” Lucius drawled.

Sirius sighed and dropped his head in his hand. “Do you swear on your magic, Malfoy, that this actually occurred?”

“I swear on my magic and the life of my heir,” Lucius stated sternly.

“Very well. I’ll announce a press conference for next weekend. What name are we going to use?”

“Tom Brown,” Lycoris decided. “It’s generic enough.”

“Fine,” Sirius muttered, standing. “We can say you didn’t recognize your kidnapper until you saw her in the infirmary the other day.”

“What about Tonks? I’ve known her for years.”

“You were locked in a basement,” Marvolo supplied. “You never saw anyone but Andromeda. I’m sure, if Auror Tonks ever wakes up, she’ll face an inquiry, but as she actually knows nothing, she should be fine.”

Sirius sighed. “I guess we’re going to do this. I’ll go to Hogwarts and tell Selenadora the change in plans. I’m pretty sure she’s guessed who you were.”

“Yes,” Lycoris agreed nodding. “I’m pretty sure she has, as well.”

…

It created quite the public scandal. Lycoris could not walk through the hallways without being stopped. “This is ridiculous,” Draco said as they walked between classes, Selenadora on his other side. “You’d think you’d admitted you were Harry Potter.”

“Watch it,” he murmured back.

Draco nodded before turning back to Selenadora. The two really were inseparable. Lycoris wouldn’t be surprised if they got married straight out of Hogwarts. They were now even holding hands in public, though right now Selenadora had her hand resting in the crook of Draco’s arm.

“What will this do to the family?” Lycoris cautiously asked, and Draco turned back to him.

“Well, she was already an outcast. The fact that she stole her own cousin’s child in vitrus just damns her even more. It shows how heinous she is. First she marries a Muggle-born, and now this. She must really have hated your mother.”

“I wonder if she knew Mother was married to Father,” Lycoris pondered seriously. “The only people who knew, as far as I can tell, were James and Lily Potter and possibly Uncle Regulus. Oh, and Uncle Lucius might have guessed.”

“Maman never said a word about it to me,” Selenadora offered. “So, if Papa knew, he possibly didn’t tell Maman.”

“How is she?” Draco asked.

She paused in the hallway and they both stopped. “I got a letter just after Dumbledore died, but I wasn’t certain how to tell anyone. She’s gone into a coma. They don’t expect her to come out of it. Uncle Sirius knows.”

“Oh, Selene,” Lycoris whispered, reaching out for her.

Selenadora smiled weakly at him as Draco pulled her closer. “It is nothing. When I left France, I knew it was only a matter of time before she died. I’m surprised she lasted this long, to be honest,” she murmured. She then unhooked her arm and walked briskly away.

Draco made to follow her, but Lycoris held him back. “Don’t. She’s a Black. She needs to process this on her own.”

“We all have Charms together,” Draco pointed out.

“Then we’ll see her in about two minutes,” Lycoris reasoned. “Just give her this little bit of space. Plus,” he smirked, “you’re carrying her books.”

Draco laughed a little at that.  
…

Andromache sipped her tea. She was visiting her Uncle Troy, Lord Prince, and her Aunt Dionysia. “Did you know, dear?” Dionysia asked kindly. “You are, after all, courting Lord Black.”

“No,” she answered succinctly. “I, of course, knew that Heir Lycoris was a stolen child. I just didn’t realize how horrid it was.”

“This demmed story. It wreaks of a cover up,” Troy declared. “Something worse happened to the boy, you mark my words. They’re just trying to deflect attention.”

“How can you possibly know that?” Andromache asked.

“My Octavian Nür’s seen the boy. Heir Lycoris’s cousins are in Slytherin with him. He doesn’t act like someone kept in the cellar for eleven years. Plus, he’s overheard talk of abusive Muggles, which is why Heir Lycoris is obsessed with blood purity.”

“Well,” Andromache stated. “My courtship with Lord Black is still too new. I know that Heir Lycoris is to marry this August, but I haven’t even gotten the name of the bride! I haven’t even seen Lady Harrendora, in fact!”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Dionysia said, taking her hand. “His last wife proved false. He’s merely being overly cautious. Also, from what you’ve told me, his family is extremely important to him.”

“True,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “Still, it would be nice to be invited to the wedding, or to actually meet Heir Lycoris. We’ve exchanged several letters, but that’s about it.”

“Aye, give it time,” Troy insisted. “Ye’re in it for the long haul. Let it play out.”

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Troy.”

He smiled gruffly at her.

…

“Why am I here?” Andromeda asked, her tearstained face looking through the bars of a similar cell to the one Hermione had been placed in.

“My dear,” Lucius said. “You were never tried for line left and attempted rape,” he reminded her, “and incest,” he added. “I am, after all, your younger sister’s husband. My nephew Lycoris has taught me an interesting Muggle expression: ‘What Goes Around Comes Around.’”

“That was over fifteen years ago,” she pleaded, her head scraping the top of the rounded cell.

“Yes,” he agreed, “and now you’re being punished for stealing a Black child in vitrus and holding him captive for eleven years. Wouldn’t you call that line theft, my dear? And, well, he was your kinsman. First cousin, once removed. If you’d ever done anything to him, it would have been incest. Rape, well, we’ll just forget about that just for now.”

“You won’t get away with this,” she hissed.

“Ah, the inner Slytherin,” Lucius murmured. “I had thought you’d lost it when you married that Muggleborn,” he spat out the word. “Then there was the Amortentia incident, which nearly showed Slytherin cunning. Really, my dear, you should have chosen an alcohol that would have masked the smell. Research would have helped.—Also, the trial has already been held. Your testimony wasn’t needed. Heir Lycoris is too young to have his memories viewed or to take veritaserum and as he only confessed under duress, his testimony was all that was needed.” He smiled at her maliciously. “Oh, and just so you know, Lord Black knows about this. All of this.” 

Lucius had been leaning down so he could look into Andromeda’s gray eyes, but now used his cane to foist himself up.

“Enjoy Azkaban, my dear. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

A choked sob met his ears.

…

The ceremony was private and held on the first of August, a day after Harry Potter’s birthday. The Malfoys were all there at Grimmauld Place along with Bellatrix and the Black household. Marvolo cut open the palm of his hand with a silver athame diagonally, and handed it to Lycoris. Taking a deep breath, Lycoris opened his own palm. They joined their hands and the magic slithered between them. Lycoris’s eyes flashed gray momentarily before shifting back to purple. His hair was unbound, still blond and black, though with the Black curl to it. His cheekbones had been raised again.

Marvolo thought he looked absolutely beautiful.

Next they cut the pomegranate and fed it to each other. Lycoris laughed as he reached forward with his head as Marvolo teasingly held the pomegranate away from his lips.

“You, Dark Lord, you,” Lycoris accused.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he responded, feeding Lycoris. “I’m Tom Marvolo Riddle, Jr.”

They smiled at each other. 

Lucius handed the Dark Lord a box, which he opened to reveal a gold ring with a black stone in it. “This is a Gaunt ring,” he whispered. “It’s very dear. You could say it holds a piece of my soul.” His brown-red eyes sought out Lycoris’s and Lycoris nodded. Although the Gaunt heir ring was already on his left ring finger, Marvolo placed this ring on the middle finger.

Sirius came up next and handed a similar box to Lycoris. “I—I could have chosen the Heir Consort ring,” he stated plainly. “But I didn’t. This ring dates back about a thousand years and is written in Anglo-Saxon runes. I thought it would suit you better.” He opened the box to show a roughly hewn ring in pewter. His eyes looked up hopefully to Marvolo, who smiled encouragingly back at him.

Sighing in relief, Lycoris slipped the ring onto Marvolo’s left ring finger. He then jumped into Marvolo’s arms, and they kissed deeply, tongues playing with each other. Marvolo’s hands were in Lycoris’s thick hair and Lycoris had placed his hands on the sides of Marvolo’s face.

The sound of cheering broke them apart and Lycoris blushed. Marvolo took Lycoris’s hand and led him to their guests.

“What does this make you?” Selenadora asked over champagne. “Consort Riddle or Heir Lycoris?”

“Heir Lycoris,” Marvolo answered for him. “We agreed the line shouldn’t die out with him.”

They smiled at each other, their hands entwined.

That night, Marvolo undressed him and Lycoris pulled his hair over his shoulder. He took a deep breath and then allowed the scars on his back to show.

At first Marvolo didn’t notice, but when he did, his fingers traced them. “What happened?”

“The man who called himself my uncle would whip me with a belt if they didn’t like their dinner cooked just so,” he answered. “Then they would lock me in my cupboard.”

Marvolo kissed his shoulder. “Thank you for showing me.”

The scars melted back into Lycoris’s flesh. “I don’t think on it.”

“No,” Marvolo agreed. “That happened to Harry Potter, not to Heir Lycoris Black.”

Lycoris turned and, taking Marvolo’s face in his hands, kissed him softly. “Hello, husband,” he grinned.

“Hello, husband.”

Marvolo was invested as King of Magical Britain on the fifteenth. He was using his potion so that he showed his horrible snake face, but Lycoris was at his side. As the priest anointed them, Lycoris took a deep breath. A crown was placed on his head. Marvolo had done as he had promised. He had placed a coronet upon his brow.   
…

In a quiet little town of New Zealand, a letter arrived for Hermia Chambers. She looked at it and saw there was no post stamp. Opening it, she read the perfect penmanship, in purple ink, and she couldn’t believe what she’d read.

There had been a coup in England, but she could not come home.

She could never come home, even if she wished to.

Hermia would have to content herself with this little life.

The letter was signed in the most peculiar way, and she stared at the signature for hours. It read: His Royal Highness, Heir Lycoris Black, Prince Consort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more flashback before we're finished!


	18. Postlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! We've come to the end! I hope you've all enjoyed this!

**Epilogue—  
** _“I’m in love with an angel who’s afraid of the light / Her halo is broken but there’s fight in her eyes”  
_ **—“Angel,” Theory of a Deadman  
**

It was winter of Sirius’s sixth year and he was waiting at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He was waiting for Lux, and he was getting rather impatient.

“I’m here!” she whispered as she ran through the tree line. She slipped through the snow and Sirius had to catch her, holding her close to his body and just breathing in her scent. “What did you need to see me about?”

“I’m seventeen,” he stated.

“I know. We celebrated,” she began hesitantly. “What is this about?” She hadn’t moved away. Instead she remained nestled in his arms.

“Oh, damn the old gods,” Sirius murmured, leaning down and kissing her. It was merely the whisper of a kiss before he pulled away and he looked down at her, searching her violet eyes.

“Sirius, we can’t,” she stressed.

“Why not? I’m in love with you, Lux. In love with you. I know I’m crazy, but you’re my heart and soul, Lux. You guard them for me.” He ran his hand up her neck and buried it in her hair. She always wore it down when it was just the two of them because they were godsiblings—the word was too horrible to mention.

“But the magic—“

“Are you in love with me?” he demanded. “Lux, it’s just you and me. It’s not the Blacks, it’s not the Kingsleys, and it’s definitely not the Malfoys.”

“I just,” she looked about her in confusion. “Sirius, you shouldn’t say such things.”

Sirius pressed his forehead to hers. “Lux, remember what we said when we were children? That this didn’t seem like a godsibling bond? How our hearts beat as one and we didn’t understand it? Now I do. I love you.”

“But, Sirius—“

“I don’t care that you’re a blood purist, or a snotty Ravenclaw, or that your uncle is probably out torturing Muggles right now. I don’t care that you’d sooner curse a person than ask them a fair question. I love you. Stop making excuses. If you don’t love me, tell me, and we’ll forget this ever happened, but if you do—Lux, if you do—“

“Then what?”

“We’ll figure it out,” he decided. “I’m not a Marauder for nothing. Say you love me.”

“I’m going to muggle hell for this,” she whispered before she leaned up and kissed him. He swept her into his arms and they just breathed each other in.

“What do we do now?” Lux asked in fear.

“I’ll figure something out,” he promised. “For now we keep it secret,” he whispered. He kissed her again and she met him eagerly.

When they finally parted, Sirius watched her go, a smile on his face. He turned back toward the castle, but found the form of James Potter waiting for him. “It’s a sin,” he stated. “She’s your godsibling.”

Sirius just brushed past him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he dismissed. “Go chase after Evans instead of spying on your friends.”

He walked away, not noticing the gleam in James Potter’s eyes.

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is **Winter's Light**. It involves a Sirius and Lux having a _daughter_. It is perhaps the favorite Harry Potter fic I've ever written. 
> 
> First chapter is up as of today!


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